


The Thirteenth Hour

by RebelVale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 35,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelVale/pseuds/RebelVale
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a mysterious box. It is always locked and he would allow no one to touch it. For more than 70 years he refused to open it until the day he hears the news that devastates him, the news that Hermione Granger is dead.'Draco Malfoy was an embittered old man. He sat alone at his breakfast table, just as he had done every day for the past 70 years...'
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 46
Kudos: 121





	1. Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as a one shot, where Draco reflects on what might have been but then I decided you might like a back story :)

Draco Malfoy was an embittered old man. He sat alone at his breakfast table, just as he had done every day for the past 70 years, and picked up 'The Daily Prophet'. He sipped his tea, as was his habit. He browsed the pages but this morning something changed in his monotonous routine. This morning the Earth shifted on its axis. This morning 'The Prophet' announced the news that, had he been a younger man, would have seen him smash up the room in anger and distress. Draco did not have the strength for that now but he still hurled the paper across the room and screamed in anguish. She was dead!

With her death any lingering hope, no matter how small it might have been, of reconciliation was gone. He had waited too long. He was always too proud, too much of a coward. He knew he should have acted sooner; he should have acted a long time ago. He should have taken the chance when he had it now it was too late.

Hindsight, how cruel it was to know that, had you acted otherwise, your life might have been very different. He wanted to go back; he wanted to take his chance, be less of a coward. Tell her he loved her. He wanted to change it all.

"Pinkie," he screamed in a ragged voice.

"Yes Sir," his loyal house elf answered as soon as she appeared.

Without preamble, life was too short for preamble at Draco's age, he demanded:

"The black dragon box."

The elf didn't move for a moment, a look of concern appearing on her wizened old face.

"Are you sure sir?" The elf bravely enquired.

"What is this? Challenged by my own house elf?" Draco demanded a terrifying hint of steel still apparent in his voice. The house elf flinched.

"Yes Master," the house elf bowed.

"And don't call me Master," Draco growled.

"Yes Mr. Draco," the elf corrected herself before disappearing with a pop.

Draco knew deep down that he had become a miserable old git but he treated his house elves well because he knew without them he would be utterly, entirely alone.

The elf reappeared with the box, a look of great anxiety on her face.

"The box sir."

The tiny elf placed the box on the crisp white linen of the breakfast table, its dark wood contrasting menacingly with the clean linen. He had resisted the temptation to open it many times. When Astoria died he almost broke he was so lonely. He had so wanted to see her again but he was fearful of the consequences. When Weasley died he almost opened it but by then he realised it was too late for them and whatever was contained within that box it could no longer matter. Broken hearted he had put it away once again.

Draco didn't believe you could die of grief or a broken heart but he wished he could; if it were possible, he thought wryly, he would have died young. The shards of his heart had long since been ground to dust. He should have simply faded away but he hadn't. Draco clung stubbornly to life in the hope of another chance. It never came.

His only solace now was his grandchildren. The irony of course was that they had been her solace too, they were her grandchildren also, yet they had not been enough to keep her from passing beyond the veil.

He looked at the box again _what did he have to lose?_ He asked himself, "the greater good?" He scoffed out loud. _That is what she would have said. She was always unfailingly good but what did he care for the greater good? He didn't care now who it hurt, besides who was left?_

"I don't care," he told her spirit "I don't care, haven't I suffered enough for you? Don't I deserve some solace, some measure of your love?" He knew she couldn't hear him, he knew she had never known how he had suffered or that still, after all these years, he yearned to hear her voice, to see her again as she had once been before war and age had scarred her. Had he been a good man he might have had reasonable hope of seeing her again in the next life, but Draco was not a good man, he knew that when he was ferried across the river Stix it would be to spend eternity without her.

Draco would have given anything to go back and put it right. He wanted more than the moments they had had. He wanted it all, he wanted a lifetimes worth of her love. Sometimes he tried to console himself that they had loved more in a few moments than many had done in a lifetime, sometimes he almost convinced himself it was enough.

"I cannot move on without seeing you again," he spoke his thoughts aloud as if someone was listening, as if anyone cared but no one had cared for him in years. "I can't move on without you." He called out to her even though she was beyond hearing.

_How had it come to this?_ He wondered. He didn't know but he knew she had taken their secret to the grave and he would honour her by doing the same. But he knew he should have been braver, they could have been together or died trying. He would have loved her more than that feckless husband of hers. She deserved better than that man had given her.

Draco sat staring at the box until he was stiff. After hours, as the darkening shadows crept across the drawing room floor, Draco made a decision. It was too late; whatever she had thought to tell him it couldn't matter now. The eleventh hour had passed nothing he could do now would change that. Leaving the box unopened, its contents undisturbed, Draco retired to his bed hoping that at last death would take him too.

He lay in his bed; Morpheus had deserted him all he could do was remember her. He recalled how many years earlier…

-o0o-

Many years early Draco Malfoy had fallen in love. He hadn't meant to, he didn't do it consciously. It sneaked up on him when he was unawares but from the start he had known it was a 'mistake'. Draco did not recall ever consciously acknowledging how beautiful she was, but he knew that she was beautiful and subconsciously he knew he desired her.

If he had been asked to pinpoint a time and a place when it had all begun he thought now that he could. His younger self might not have noticed but now, after all these years, Draco knew exactly the time and place.

It had begun one spring day the early spring sunlight, slanting low through the windows, casting a glow upon Granger's face. He sat behind her in class and noticed, as the sun warmed her cheeks, how beautifully clear and smooth her skin was. He had idly wondered if it was soft. It looked soft and he remembered a feeling of regret that he would never be allowed to touch her. She may look perfect, he had reminded himself sternly, but she was a 'mud-blood' and beneath his notice.

Yet as the term had gone on, he recalled, he couldn't help but notice her. He couldn't really pinpoint the moment he realised he had fallen for her but other things lingered in his memory. He could still smell the scent of jasmine in her hair. He recollected clearly the day he had been pushed into her and how he couldn't help but breathe her in. 'How could she smell so delicious?' He had wondered, she was a 'mud-blood' she should smell fowl and dirty. It was that thought that had begun to slowly eroded everything that he thought he knew about the world. Though he told himself 'no', though he told himself he would disgrace his family name, he had not been able to stay away from her.

Draco turned on his side, his old and fragile bones protesting at his sudden movement. He had given up on sleep. He had once heard the Weaslette tell her idle brother; 'you can sleep when you're dead'. At this moment he felt she might have a point. Painfully, he dragged himself up. Reaching for a walking stick, not unlike that once owned by his father, he laboured down the stairs.

Draco settled himself in a large wingback chair by the fire, caressing the dragon box as if it held the mystery of the world. With a fortifying swig of fire whiskey Draco's, gnarled and age marked hands slid the lock free.

There was a single piece of parchment. It was yellowed by age, the seal still intact. He still recognised her elegant hand, he had always known who it was from even though at the time he had not acknowledged it. He broke the seal;

_Dear Draco,_

_I know I shouldn't be writing this and I know that there is a strong possibility you will never read it. A large part of me thinks I am a fool to hope but I couldn't go through with this without offering you another chance; offering us both a final chance to be together._

_I want you to know that I love you and that even now, at the thirteenth hour, when it seems beyond too late, if you were to stand up and claim me I would go with you. Even though I know my husband to be is a good man and he will always be good to me. I do not love him as I should. He is not the man I truly want. That will always, has always been you._

_If you read this, if you want me still, if you find the courage come back for me before it is too late._

_All_ _my love, always,_

_Hermione._

Before he reached the last line his vision was blurred with tears. He had always assumed that she had written on her wedding day to tell him to forget her. That it was over, he couldn't bear that so he hadn't opened it. He had been so wrong; he could never have imagined this, that even at the final moment, at the ‘thirteenth hour’ as she had called it, she had been prepared to throw it all away for him. He could imagine the scandal they would have caused; it almost brought a smirk to his lips. She would have stuck a finger up at the world to be with him but of course, he thought soberly, that was why he had left her. It wasn't cowardice, it wasn't her heritage, it was simply that he had wanted to protect her from the prejudice and denunciation of the world.


	2. The Snow Globe

Draco must have finally dosed off in his chair. He was awoken hours later by Pinkie;

"There is a gentleman here to see you Mr. Draco," she informed him cautiously.

"Tell him to bugger off, I don't want to see anyone," _Couldn't he be left to wallow in his own misery?_ He silently wondered.

"The Gentleman says it is important it is about the late Mrs. Weasley," as Draco was sure was intended, that got his attention. "Alright Pinkie," Draco conceded, "show him in."

"Mr. Malfoy," the rather rotund wizard held out his hand in greeting. Draco ignored it impatiently.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, his patience and manners having long since deserted him. The man stiffened clearly steeling himself to have the encounter over as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Malfoy my name is Theissen Klimt, I represent the estate of the late Hermione Weasley nee Granger. I am sure you are aware of Mrs. Weasley's sad passing…"

Draco scoffed by way of acknowledgement, waving the man on to continue.

"I am here to inform you that Mrs. Weasley left you a bequest in her will. She assumed you would not be willing to come to our offices to collect it so she instructed that we bring it to you."

"Get on with it man," Draco grumbled, "else I'll be dead before you finish."

The lawyer grimaced but reached into his briefcase to produce a black velvet,drawstring bag.

"She told me to tell you; 'that you would know what to do with it.'"

"Is that all?" Draco snapped.

"Umm! Well yes." The lawyer concluded looking put out, as if he had expected Draco to explain.

"Then good day Mr. Klimt, Pinkie will see you out."

-o0o-

Draco held the bag as if it might burn him. As soon as Klimt left the room, with shaking fingers he prized the bag open. A wry smile spread across his face as he removed the snow globe from the bag. _I remember this_ , he silently recalled, _I remember this day, I remember how it was the first time I had felt hope in what had felt like forever. I remember having it made to recall the moment and I remember how I learnt to be selfless and gave it to her._

He shook the globe, the snow swirled around the figure of a young woman running, her hair flying like a pennant in the breeze, a dragon kite trailing behind her. He recalled how Hermione had raced along the beach laughing as spindrift flashing at her heels. It had been a beautiful day, a day he had had her all to himself,a day when she had taught him to hope that he might have a chance at redemption. It was all an illusion, he thought bitterly, unreal like the girl in the globe, no more attainable than bottled moonlight.

There was a tiny draw in the base he recalled; when he gave it to her the draw had held a promise ring. He wondered did she ever wear it. Tentatively, he opened the draw praying the ring and the note were not still there, that she had at least known that she had meant something to him. The ring was still there right where he had left it. Draco's despair only deepened as he withdrew the note. Turning over the parchment he realised that it was not in his own hand. He unfolded it with shaking fingers-he knew that hand.

' _Draco my love_ ', the note began. Draco almost choked on the sob that rent through him as he read those first words.

-o0o-

**Days earlier**

Hermione knew she was dying, knew she didn't have long left. There was little the healers could do for her now and they had granted her wish to go home so she could pass in peace, in familiar surroundings. But she felt no peace, there was a gnawing ache in her soul, there was something she had to do, a chance she had to take before she could rest.

Sitting, painfully slowly, at her writing desk she pulled out a quill and parchment. She began to write but faltered, _how did you address the man you had pined for for decades_? She contemplated. She stared at her wizened and age spotted hands, at the ring that she had never removed. The ring she had refused to remove despite Ron's churlish attempts to replace it and finally she began. Simply and honestly she addressed him:

_Draco, my love,_

_If you are reading this then I am gone. Do you grieve for me? Would you want to be with me again if only you could? Are you brave enough to take the risk if there was a way? If there was one last chance for the life we should have had together? If there was a moment in time when you could go back, do things differently, live life again would you take it?_

_This is my bequest to you my love. I offer you a second chance, the means to spend a life time with me rather than a life time of misery. Be brave Draco, you know the moment stand up and claim me._

_I await you,_

_All my love, always,_

_Hermione._

Slivers of tears lined her eyes as she folded the note, took off the ring and placed it in the hidden draw of the snow globe he had given her. Then she placed the small black velvet pouch that she had kept hidden for years alongside it and closed the draw turning her attention to instructing her lawyers on how they must deal with her bequest.

At last, her will and bequests settled, Hermione took to her bed never to rise again.

-o0o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your comments. Next chapter, which starts the back story, should be posted over the weekend.


	3. Many, many years earlier…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the start of the protracted back story, which will almost be a tale within a tale.

**August 1998**

Many, many years earlier…

Draco sat nervously in the dock he knew his mother was there but he dare not look up to meet her eye. He did not want his last memory of his mother to be her tears. In fact Draco didn't dare look at anyone. His trial had been a vicious affair, it was clear to him that members of the Wizengamot were baying for his blood. Those who had a grudge against his father, his family name or those who simply wanted a scapegoat, were disinclined to give him a fair hearing. Draco was sure that at least two thirds of the members of the court were interested more in vengeance than justice. It mattered not that two thirds of the golden trio had spoken on his behalf. In short Draco anticipated finding himself in Azkaban for a very long time and he wasn't sure he even cared. _What opportunities would life give him now? He would be a pariah even with all his wealth and despite all his mother had done, it was highly likely he would be the last scion of the Malfoy line. Even if he avoided Azkaban what woman would ever have him?_

Draco couldn't bring himself to care. He had been a pawn in a game, much as he supposed Potter had been, his life had never been his own and now he thought death would have been kinder. If he had been braver he ought to have turned his wand on himself while he had the chance, now he had no wand they had taken it from him. Now even the choice of whether he lived or died was not his own.

His reverie was disrupted by the amplified voice of the Minister of Magic calling the court to order. This was it, Draco steeled himself for the verdict as two Aurors pulled him to his feet.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," the president of the court began, "you have been found not guilty on four counts but guilty of the charge of consorting with known Death Eaters, you will be held in custody pending sentencing."

The Aurors moved to take him away. Draco wasn't sure what this would mean he looked towards his lawyer for clarification but the Aurors were intent on dragging him away.

Moments later Draco found himself in a ministry holding cell. He supposed if he could look on the bright side at least it beat a night in Azkaban, though he still thought that would be his ultimate destination. In the dark of the holding cell he quickly lost all track of time. His mind wondered back to Hogwarts, back to that pivotal moment when he had almost changed sides. He could have done it, he didn't believe in the Dark Lord's cause, he never really had. If there had been even the slightest hope that he would have a chance with her he would have done it but he had burnt those bridges. She hated him and he only had himself to blame. At least he had seen her one more time, he was amazed that she had been prepared to defend him when he had done nothing to defend her. He could never forgive himself for that, though it would have cost his life he should have done it anyway. He had promised himself that moving forward he would have a new mantra to do the right thing, to be afraid and do it anyway.

It could have been hours or minutes before his lawyer joined him. He explained that there was a reasonable expectation he would avoid Azkaban after all. The lesser charge that he had been found guilty of hardly warranted a custodial sentence. Alone again Draco had to force himself to rein back his dreams. For a moment hope filtered through the shadows, hope that she might forgive him that they might eventually be together. He forced himself to stifle that hope, to throttle the life from it. It would never be more than a fantasy.

It must have been morning before the Aurors came for him. He was almost relieved that finally the waiting was over. He was ushered into an unnaturally still and largely empty court room. He sat as the room slowly filled. He looked for his mother that was when he saw her; Granger. She had come to see his punishment delivered. Briefly he caught her eye. She seemed unaccountably nervous, _was she so afraid of him?_ He wondered. He had no time to consider. The court was called to order. He stood again to hear his doom; the malignant gleam in one of the older witches' eyes did not bode well. Draco closed his eyes against his fate hoping, like a small child, that if he didn't look it wouldn't happen.

"Draco," his mother's voice broke gently into his consciousness, "you can come home now."

-o0o-

Draco Malfoy was broken. His mother knew it and deep down inside himself he knew it. The Wizengamot had known it too yet still, despite his apparent 'acquittal', they had chosen to send him back to Hogwarts. It was an act of unparalleled cruelty. Draco could not deluded himself, he knew it was a punishment. There was no place in the world he would least like to be than the Wizarding school and if it were not for the pain it would cause his mother, he would have pitched himself off the manor's highest tower rather than suffer this indignity. What he had done in that place haunted him. The halls of Hogwarts plagued his nightmares; they ran with blood, echoed with the screams of his peers and burned with fiendfyre. He would have rather gone to Azkaban than serve his probation back at Hogwarts.

Draco secreted himself in a dark corner of a carriage as the Hogwarts express pulled out of Kings Cross station. He had carefully timed his arrival on platform 9 3/4, anxious to avoid the crowds of students and their families that congregated there. Casting a disillusionment charm he had slipped unnoticed into the final carriage. Once he was seated the other students avoided him, out of fear or contempt? Draco wasn't sure, but they left him alone with his fears and his thoughts and for that Draco was strangely grateful.

-o0o-

When the train arrived in Scotland hours later Draco deliberately hung back as the other students disembarked. He was the last to make his way from Hogsmeade station towards the awaiting carriages. All Draco wanted to do was to avoid drawing any attention to himself, to slip, as unobtrusively as possibly, into the castle and to the 8th year dorm. It was not easy to be unobtrusive when your familial characteristics screamed for attention but Draco was determined to try. He raised the hood of his cloak to cover his platinum blond hair and slipped quietly from the station keeping to the shadows as if they were some kind of shield.

Draco assumed that the other returning 8th years would all be in the Great Hall listening to the Head Mistress greet the students. He knew he would need to face them all eventually but he didn't need to face them all at once and he didn't need to face them now. Draco felt himself fortunate that, as an 8th year student, he had been given his own private room. He sighed out a breath of relief as he finally slipped through the portrait into the 8th year common room and located said door.

The room was more than he had hoped for, clean and functional, more than many would say he deserved. He locked the door to his temporary sanctuary, putting up silencing charms, every protective enchantment he knew before stripping off his clothes and crawling naked into his bed waiting for the nightmares to claim him.

-o0o-

The first morning of term Hermione sat fretfully at the breakfast table;

"Shouldn't Malfoy be here?" Hermione asked. She had been on edge since the previous evening anticipating coming face to face with the sneering Slytherin once again.

"Wasn't he sentence to return to repeat 7th year as part of his probation?" She questioned, eyeing those around her in search of confirmation.Hermione had almost opted not to return when she heard that piece of news but in the end she refused to allow Malfoy to prevent her from doing what she wished.

"Who cares?" Ginny responded dismissively, not lifting her eyes from her breakfast.

"Well I just want to be prepared that's all," Hermione admitted somewhat defensively.

Ginny stilled, as if sudden realisation struck.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't think. I'm sure he won't be any trouble he's going to be on strict good behaviour or he'll be rotting in Azkaban. You most likely won't even see him." Ginny said, more in hope than conviction.

"That's unlikely Ginny, there are so few returning 8th years, what are the chances I will avoid him?"

"Trust me Hermione he won't dare bother you and if he does he'll have me to contend with," Ginny promised.

Hermione was warmed by her friend's loyalty and conviction. She wanted to tell her it was fine that Hermione Granger was more than capable of protecting herself but the truth was the thought of seeing Malfoy again terrified her. She knew she would have to see him eventually but if she could avoid it...

"I didn't see him at dinner last night," Neville chipped in, "but maybe he was told to stay away, it wouldn't surprise me. There was something of an uproar that he avoided Azkaban and was to be sent here. Many parents objected, some even threatened to send their offspring elsewhere," Neville continued conversationally, "the house elves will probably have to serve his food to him in his own room to avoid him being poisoned."

"That's terrible," Luna interrupted as she joined her friends at the Gryffindor table.

Neville cocked an eyebrow at the blonde as if he sought explanation but when she failed to clarify he added:

"You don't think someone will try to do him?" Neville asked, as if the prospect of Malfoy’s impending murder was highly probable.

Hermione looked up at that. In truth it had never occurred to her that Malfoy would not be safe at Hogwarts. It had never occurred to her that anyone would be unsafe at Hogwarts.”

"Oh come on," Neville said in exasperation, "you must have thought it...I mean I wouldn't do it but..."

"But surely..."Hermione began before Neville interrupted.

"You don't think they sent him here as some sort of safe haven?" Neville asked, looking at Hermione as if she couldn't be so naive.

"I hadn't really thought about it to be honest Neville," Hermione conceded.

"They might not have been able to send him to Azkaban but they could make sure he got the shite kicked out of him. He will have to watch his back, no one will watch it for him." Neville concluded.

Hermione bit her lip, it had never occurred to her that sending Malfoy to Hogwarts was some sort of perverse and vindictive punishment. _Neville was right though_ , she inwardly conceded, _no one would stand in Malfoy's corner and he might well face the collective spite and vengeance of the Hogwarts' population_. Hermione was not sure what she felt about that. _Had the Wizengamot really sent Malfoy here out of spite?_ Some vicious part of her thought good! The bully would get his pay back but another, more generous, part of her almost felt sorry for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of confused and mixed emotions going on here but they will begin to crystallise.
> 
> Thank you if you have left comments and kudos already. You are all wonderful:)


	4. Villain

Draco felt nauseous with anxiety. Oh, he had faced far worse than a few Hogwarts students, he had after all spent mouths trapped in his home with his insane aunt, a crazed werewolf and a homicidal megalomaniac, but still he could not help but feel anxious about the way his peers might greet him. He knew not to expect any friendship the best he could hope for, he reasoned, was that he might be ignored.

Draco dressed with care, 8th years were not required to wear uniform, it was one of many concession to the fact they were all legally adults. He avoided the black suits that had become his trade mark before the war. The dark colours that screamed; villain, Death Eater, dark wizard. Draco favoured instead a pale blue cotton shirt and dark blue muggle jeans beneath his robes. It was simple, casual attire but the crisp tailored shirt and the well fitted quality denim still screamed wealth.

Draco steeled himself as he picked up his messenger bag full of books and finally left the sanctuary of his room. He had barely taken a step when he heard a sharp intake of breath. He spun around drawing his wand as an instinctive, defensive move.

Hermione stood there paralysed, as if she had been stupefied. Neither she nor Draco moved. Hermione gradually regained her composure and as she did she took in her enemy. He looked different. It wasn't the clothing; although she would later concede the pale blue softened him and drew out the colour in his eyes. It was his entire countenance. He almost looked cowed. There was no arrogance, no sneer, no apparent revulsion at being in her presence. Had she not known him his demeanour would have intrigued her.

"Granger," he acknowledged snapping her out of her reverie.

"Malfoy," she responded instinctively and that was it; their first encounter over, he turned and walked away leaving Hermione some what bewildered by what had just happened.

-o0o-

Draco tried not to make eye contact with anyone as he walked towards his first class. He strode purposefully down the corridor taking quick strides. He was aware of the hissing sibilance of whispers that broke in his wake but he refused to cower in the shadows. What little pride in his name remained insisted that he held his head up and faced the world as bravely as he could manage.

He made it to arithmancy without incident and began to relax slightly as he waited outside professor Vectors door. That was when the first of his peers made very clear what they thought of the returning former Death Eater. Draco wiped the spittle from his face and swallowed his anger and humiliation just as the door opened to let them in.

Draco sought the safety of the front of the room. At least with the teacher in front of him he could be reasonably certain no one would spit in his face. The class settled, no one sat beside him. He hadn't expected anyone would.

Vector began to introduce her lesson but paused. Draco looked fixedly at the wall at the front of the class not daring to draw any attention to himself. From the corner of his eye he could see Granger stood breathless in the door.

"Sorry professor..." she began but trailed off as she surveyed the room. There was nowhere for her to sit. Nowhere that was except beside Draco.

"Well hurry take a seat Miss Granger," Vector urged, showing no awareness of the fact that Granger would rather die than sit beside Draco. Draco moved his messenger bag from the seat beside him. Less as an invitation than as an acknowledgment that he had no right to leave it there.

Hermione steeled herself. She gave herself a stern reminder that she was a war hero, a member of the Order and she had nothing to fear from Malfoy. Slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal she made her way to the vacant seat beside the blond.

Draco watched as she sat, tense and stiff backed. Her body language screaming that she didn't want to be near him. Draco sighed inwardly, he couldn't blame her, he doubted that he would ever persuade any woman to willingly come within three feet of him ever again. Pushing down that depressing thought Draco did his best to focus on the lesson. All the time conscious of how ill at ease his neighbour was.

Draco left the class utterly wretched, wretched that he had made Granger feel like that. Her hands, he had noted, had trembled as she had taken out her things from her bag. Her discomfort with him had made him feel even more ashamed than he had felt before. Draco had hung back, not wishing to leave the room with the crowd. It was a mistake!

Rounding the corner into the potions corridor he did not see the foot waiting maliciously to trip him. Despite his usual grace Draco went arse over teakettle and found himself sprawled in an undignified heap, his books strewn across the floor. Teeters of laugher echoed across the dark space but before Draco could gather himself and glower at the culprits his breath was snatched by a sharp crushing pain in his ribs. The offending highly polished boot paused for a moment as if contemplating having another go but it moved away swiftly before Draco could gather himself enough to identify its owner.

-o0o-

Hermione had not seen Malfoy enter the room. She had been too focused on cutting her ingredients but she was sure he had been late. She didn't at first notice the graze that marred his chin or the way he had moved rather gingerly towards the ingredients store. It was only when an unexpected thud startled her that she noted anything amiss.

Malfoy's textbook 'accidentally' found its way to the floor. Hermione was surprised, it wasn't like him to be clumsy or careless of his things. It was only as he leaned forward to pick it up that Hermione recognised that something might be wrong. As he reached out an elegant hand to reclaim the book Malfoy winced. Surprised by the sound Hermione had looked up into his face.

 _What had happened to his face_? Hermione almost forgot herself, her curiosity almost getting the better of her, she almost blurted that question out loud. He had been fine a few moments ago, now he was paler than normal and a nasty graze marred his usually flawless skin.

As if he sensed she was looking at him he locked eyes with her. Hermione's curiosity was too much, silently she mouthed at him;

"What happened to you?"

He didn't responded merely snorted as if to say; _what do you think_? before wincing again, the force of his distain clearly painful. It was then that Hermione recalled what Neville had said at breakfast that morning. Someone had deliberately targeted Malfoy. To her surprise Hermione could not say she was happy about that.

-o0o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you have left a comment or left kudos so far. I am about 20000 words into writing this so I will be able to update at regular intervals. There is quite a bit of back story before we get back to the elderly Malfoy and Hermione’s bequest. I hope you will stick with it.


	5. Outrage

Over the next few weeks Hermione watched as Malfoy exhibited a growing catalogue of injuries. Not the least of which was the black eye he was sporting this morning. He didn't seem to complain, no one seemed to notice his repeated injuries and no one appeared to be being held accountable. _How could the staff not see this? She wondered in mild outrage. How could they allow this to happen?_

At the end of September things came to a head. After weeks of punishment the inevitable happened someone went too far and Malfoy found himself in the hospital wing. Hermione assumed finally something would be done.

"So what happened?" She heard Ginny ask over dinner.

"A group of 7th year Slytherins pushed him down the stairs I heard," Neville informed them all.

"Oh I would have loved to have seen that," Seamus chortled through a mouthful of mash.

"Seamus!" Hermione said outraged.

"What?" He responded in surprise.

"He could have been killed," Hermione chastised.

"Well good riddance to bad rubbish I say," Seamus came back, "what?" Seamus responded to Hermione's look of horror, "oh come on it's not like we don't all think it."

Hermione sat very still, _had she thought it?_ She asked herself, _was she as guilty as everyone else of wishing Malfoy dead?_

"Are you alright," Ginny asked in concern.

"It's not right," Hermione responded, Ginny looked confused.

Hermione thought about all the injuries Malfoy had had, how he had apparently bourn them stoically. She couldn't have been the only one to notice he was being regularly beaten.

"What's not right?" Ginny sort clarification.

"It's inhumane...we're no better than them," the brunette continued to her friend's complete bewilderment.

"What? Who?" Ginny demanded, clearly confused.

"Malfoy," Hermione pronounced before she hurriedly left the table.

She wasn't sure what she was thinking as she stormed into the hospital wing.

"Miss Granger?" Madame Pomfret enquired, surprised to see the Gryffindor student, "are you well?"

"Oh umm... yes I came to see a patient," Hermione responded.

"None of your friends are here only Mr. Malfoy," the older witch pointed out.

" I know," Hermione confirmed.

Poppy Pomfret raised a curious eyebrow, "Well I'm not sure I can let you..."

"I won't hurt him," Hermione cut the nurse off guessing what she might be thinking.

"Very well, but only 5 minutes, he needs to rest," the stern older witch conceded pointing towards the screened off bed the furthest distance from the door.

Tentatively Hermione moved around the screen.

Draco's eyes went wide with shock as he heard the conversation between the Nurse and the curly haired Gryffindor.

"Come to finish me off?" He demanded as soon as she made her appearance behind the screen.

"No!" She responded somewhat indignantly, even though the question had taken her by surprise. "You have got to tell someone," she continued with out any further preamble.

"Tell them what?" Draco questioned his eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"What's happening to you." She clarified.

Draco's face went stony, the mild amusement that had played around his mouth a moment ago melted away. He should have told her to shove off but, in truth, he was so deprived of human interaction-well at least the non-violent kind-that he couldn't bring himself to send her packing.

"Nothing has happened to me," he told her stoically.

"Oh come off it Malfoy, no one gets that many bruises accidentally and besides you're not that clumsy."

Draco cocked his head at her curiously, though it brought a sharp reminder that he still had a mild concussion and his recently repaired broken neck was still a little tender. He was surprised she had ever noticed either that he wasn't generally clumsy or that he had had more bruises than usual. Had she been watching him?

Ignoring her question he asked instead;

"Why do you care Granger?"

"Because it's inhumane," she replied.

He scoffed, "of course and you wouldn't even see a house elf maltreated!"

"You've got to tell someone before something happens to you that madam Pomfret can't fix," Hermione insisted.

He smiled at her then, it was the sort of smile a parent might give a foolish child.

"First," he began to explain, "you assume too much if you think anyone else would care, not everyone has your bleeding heart Granger. And secondly," he held up his hand before she could interrupt, "you assume I actually care."

At another time, and had they been discussing some other topic, Draco might have been amused by the look of shock that spread across the pretty Gryffindor's face.

"You can't mean that," she stated, as she recovered some of her composure.

"Why not?" He paused for a moment to see if she had any clever come back but when she failed to answer he continued, "what do you imagine I have to live for Granger?"

"You're..." she began but Draco didn't want to hear it.

"I'm tired now Granger, it's been a trying day," he interrupted with some irony in his tone, "goodnight."

Knowing herself dismissed, Hermione turned to leave.

"I won't let them do this to you Malfoy," she told him as a parting shot.

_Of course you won't_ , he thought bitterly, _Hermione Granger patron saint of all bloody lost causes._

-o0o-

Hermione matched to Professor Slughorn's office, determined to put a stop to Malfoy being a punch bag.

"Professor could I have a quick word?" She began.

"Of course my dear, do come in," Slughorn said as he invited her into his study, "how can I help?"

"It's about another student professor,"

"I see,"

"This student is being bullied I believe, he is repeatedly covered in bruises and has recently suffered some broken bones. I'm afraid if something isn't done then something very serious might happen to him."

"I see and why did you come to me?" Slughorn asked.

"Because he is a member of your house sir," Hermione explained.

"And this student‘s name?"

"Draco Malfoy, Sir."

Slughorn took a moment to process the name he had been given.

"Ah, well yes I'm sure it's nothing, boys will be boys after all, now I really need to prepare for my next class. Shouldn't you be running along too?"

"But Sir," Hermione protested.

"Run along now Miss Granger," Slughorn insisted, as he ushered her from the room.

As the door closed behind her Hermione felt stunned. Malfoy was right it seemed, no one cared. Hermione was indignant on Malfoy's behalf. He was barely 18 years old and it seemed the entire Wizarding world had decided he was worthless, they had written him off as beyond redemption. Perhaps it had been hypocritical of Hermione to rush to his aid. She, as much as anyone, had treated Malfoy like a pariah but she realised now that she might have been wrong. _Did he really not deserve a second chance? Was he really beyond redemption?_

Over the next week and a half Hermione reflected very hard on those two questions and her final conclusions surprised her.

-o0o-


	6. Pariah

Draco did not think it was possible to feel anymore wretched, than he did when he first arrived at Hogwarts, but he was wrong. After weeks of bully and violence, in a regime where it was made absolutely clear any retaliation on his part would have serious consequences, Draco had reached the following conclusion; that he would be better off dead or in Azkaban than he was here.

There was only one thing holding him back. If it had not been for his mother Draco would have ended it all. After all, as he had told Granger, what did he have to live for? He was treated as a pariah, he would never have a girlfriend or marry. He would never be able to socialise or appear in public- the Malfoy name would be forever tainted by its association with dark magic, if he ever had a child he might as well curse that child himself. Then there was the final indignity; even his former enemy pitied him. _What indeed did he have to live for?_

He understood now, the glee in the eyes of the members of the wizengamot as they had set his probation, there was no future for the likes of him, no forgiveness, no redemption and absolutely no hope. Draco took a swig of the bottle of fire whiskey he had been nursing for the last hour. It was almost drained but still it had not numbed him enough.

"Damn it all to hell," he cursed as he threw the remains of the whiskey at the nearest available wall. The glass shattered spraying the amber liquid in an arc across the whitewashed surface. Draco didn't care.

"Malfoy?" A gentle tap on his door, "are you ok in there?"

"Fuck off, Granger," he slurred, "I don't fucking need your pity!" He spat before finally passing out behind the door.

-o0o-

Draco's head hurt like hell, he couldn't remember how he had gotten into his bed let alone how he had gotten out of his clothes. The last he remembered was Granger at his door. Perhaps he shouldn't have yelled at her? She was after all the only person who had shown him even an ounce of kindness. But she didn't care, not really, he was just her latest charity case.

Still angry at her interference he dressed and made his way down to breakfast. Breakfast in the Great Hall was something he had done rarely but he was beyond caring today. If nothing else, he reasoned, his appearance at breakfast would prove his point to Granger; no-one-cared.

-o0o-

Hermione was enjoying her book as she absently chewed on some lightly buttered toast. It was a moment before she realised the room had gone preternaturally quiet.

"Malfoy," she heard one of the younger Gryffindors hiss under his breath announcing the blond Slytherin's arrival.Hermione held her breath. Malfoy had avoided the Great Hall like the plague since the beginning of term yet here he was, bold as brass strolling towards the Slytherin table. _Was he being deliberately provocative_? She wondered.

She let go a breath she had not realised she had been holding when he settled into his seat without apparent incident. Now, for some reason she didn't quite understand, she felt unable to take her eyes off him.

It had been a long time since she had looked at him properly. He had regained some of the weight he had lost during the war, he now looked rather more lean than gaunt. His high cheekbones were less pronounced casting the merest shadow across his cheeks. His finely chiselled jaw shaded his long neck. Although he was dressed down by Malfoy standards he was well groomed, not a trace of stubble marred his skin. Then there were his eyes; as stormy as the North Sea, the colour of leaden skies and fringed with dark lashes. Eyes that you could drown in, eyes that held depths of mystery and intrigue, eye that spoke of a soul in torment.

One dark brow rose quizzically as he caught her staring. Hermione blushed as she realised he had noticed her detailed scrutiny. She dropped her head and hid behind a curtain of curls but still she could not stop watching him. Beneath half lidded lashes she continued to observe but he knew he had her attention. He smirked then, the action drawing her eyes to his lips. Pale pink, the lower lip slightly fuller than the upper, which formed a Cupid's bow. Hermione knew that he knew she was watching him. Purposefully he drew his lower lip between his teeth, then licked it, slowly, languorously. She shuddered at the thinly veiled seduction.

Merlin and Morgana did she want to kiss him at that moment. Draco Malfoy she had to concede was seriously, seriously attractive! But, she would not allow him to play this game on his terms. _Okay Malfoy_ , she told him silently, _if you want to flirt with me, game on!_

She looked up then, making full eye contact with the Slytherin, before she placed her finger in the froth atop her coffee. She placed her index finger on her lips, smearing the creamy white froth across the pump pink, pillow of her pout, pulling down on her lower lip slightly before giving her finger tip the merest brush of her tongue, circling the tip in an action she knew was suggestive. Hermione had to bite her lip afterwards to restrain the triumphant smirk that bubbled to the surface as she watched Malfoy's eyes widen and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed deeply. Briefly she wondered if she should tease like this if she couldn't follow up but her reverie was interrupted by Ginny.

"Hermione?" She hissed quietly under her breath, "what are you doing?"

"What?" Hermione asked trying hard to snap out of her reverie.

"Are you flirting with bloody Malfoy?" Her friend demanded to know, her tone incredulously.

"Pay back," Hermione stated, suggesting an ulterior motive that was not real, although she failed to resist the telling blush that spread up her throat.

Ginny eyed her curiously, unconvinced.

-o0o-

Draco was not sure what was the greatest shock; that Granger had flirted with him so suggestively or the tightening in his groin he had felt when she did. He had no time to contemplate this surprising development further because suddenly he found himself dripping in cold, gloppy oatmeal.

"Oops, how careless of me!" The dark haired boy said with faux concern.

-o0o-

Hermione watch as Malfoy's eyes narrowed, as he struggled for control.

"Oh dear, I'm so clumsy," the boy added as he accidentally-on- a- purpose poured pumpkin juice over Malfoy's hair.

Hermione was out of her seat and across the floor, before anyone else could react.

"What do you think you are doing?" She demanded of the 5th year Slytherin.

"It was an accident," he said with a knowing smirk to his peers.

"Really?" Hermione questioned hands on hips.

To her side Draco sat glowering.

"Yeah not that it's any business of yours muuuu...muggle born," another dark haired boy chipped in deliberately dragging out his words so it was clear what slur he would have preferred to use.

"Leave it Granger," Draco, suddenly snapped, "Slytherin house business."

"But..."

He didn't let her finish; "I don't need you to defend me m.." he almost let the hateful word slip but she knew what he had been about to say. Hermione glared at him glassy eyed, biting her lip to hold back what might have been a sob.

"Fine it's your funeral," she finally managed to spit back at him before turning in a swirl of robes and curls and marching back to the Gryffindor table.

Draco turned to the fifth year boy, his ire had risen, more angry with himself than with them. He needed to lash out. He levelled a stare at the hapless boy, he needed no words, the intent was clear. His glare could have levelled a city but just in case the boy had missed the point Draco slowly rolled up his sleeves baring his dark mark for all to see. The message was clear; 'messy with me at your peril.'

-o0o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and made a comment. I have almost finished this story and would love to hear what you think so far.


	7. Weeks Apart

Hermione did not see Malfoy again for weeks after the incident in the Great Hall. He kept to himself. He came to lessons, left as swiftly as he could, ate in his room and only spoke when he was spoken to. Still Hermione couldn't help but worry for him. He was too isolated, he had to be lonely. In the end she determined to seek him out and try to befriend him. It did not go well!

"I don't want your pity Granger." He had snapped at her.

"I was just trying to be friendly," she said looking for all the world as if he had slapped her.

"Why?" He demanded.

"I don't know," she yelled back, "everyone needs a friend."

"I don't," he snapped back, "take your bleeding heart somewhere else, I don't need it," he sneered at her.

Although his tone was visceral Hermione could see the hurt in his eyes. She stopped speaking and just looked at him. Really looked at him, he was tragically beautiful, proud but in pain. He needed someone to love him and Merlin help her some part of her wanted to be that person but she knew she couldn’t be and she knew not to push him.

"I'm sorry Draco," she told him sincerely, "I promise not to interfere again."

Hermione began to walk away but as she reached the door she stopped. "If you ever need me..." she offered leaving the words to hang there. Draco felt he should have thrown her words of kindness back in her face but he knew she was sincere and somehow it comforted him.

-o0o-

As December approached the 8th year students were assigned a research project. They were completely free to chose their research topic so long as it was legal. They would be working with a research partner so it needed to be something that interested them both. This McGonagall explained whilst giving Hermione a pointed look.

"Miss Granger," the Headmistress called as the remainder of the class took their leave, "a word if you please."

"I'll see you later," Hermione reassured her friends as she moved to the front of the classroom.

"Yes Professor?" Hermione asked expectantly.

"I have to ask you a favour," the older witch began with uncharacteristic uncertainty, "it concerns... Mr. Malfoy."

The Headmistress explained she was certain no one would be his research partner, that he would therefore fail and find himself in Azkaban as a result. Hermione knew what her professor wanted.

"It's alright Professor," she said warmly, "I will be his partner."

"You will?" Mcgonagall asked looking somewhat surprised.

"That was what you were going to ask?"

"Well yes," the older witch conceded, "but I had not expected you to agreed so readily."

"It's alright Professor, Malfoy needs a friend and I don't think he deserves to be in Azkaban-although clearly many would disagree." Hermione commented, "besides it's not like you are asking me to work with an idiot. Malfoy is after all rather bright."

"Indeed," the Headmistress agree, "I had thought, in fact, that it might be possible to use that as the reason to pair you up. It would avoid any suspicion of collusion and save Mr. Malfoy's pride."

Hermione smiled in agreement knowing that perhaps he would allow her to befriend him now.

-o0o-

They worked well together. He was flame to her tinder, they debated vigorously (she refused to call them arguments) but it surprised her that he would concede when she proved him wrong. Not that, at least when it came to potions where he often out classed her, she was always right herself. Working with Malfoy Hermione also learnt to be wrong gracefully.

They had been working together for two weeks when Hermione suddenly froze mid conversation.

"What?" He asked smiling at her.

"Did you ever believe we would do this?" She asked him.

"Do what?" He asked giving her a smile that was frankly breathtaking.

"Laugh together." She told him. The smile fell from his lips, his expression became solemn. "It's alright Draco you are allowed to laugh."

"I know," he said the ghost of a smile returning, "who would have thought it?" He paused as if he was about to say something more but thought better of it.

"Come on partner," let's get this finished.

Draco watched her closely as she went back to her work. Smiling to himself at how cute she was as she poured over her books. In truth, he would have to acknowledge that he thought her beautiful. Her insatiable curiosity, her boundless enthusiasm for her work, it had all drawn him in.

"What?" She asked as she caught him staring.

"Nothing, just day dreaming," he admitted, though he would never have admitted what he was day dreaming about.

They gained an outstanding for their project and when it was over she had hoped that their burgeoning friendship would continue but Draco once more retreated in on himself. She couldn't know that he had felt himself too close to her and that he was afraid. Afraid of his own feelings, afraid that she might break him even more. So, as term neared its end, he had sought to distance himself and he might have succeed had it not been for one small and traitorous festive plant.

-o0o-


	8. The Most Beautiful of Kisses

At Hogwarts gossip spread like wild fire across the plains.

"Did you see it?" A petite Ravenclaw asked her friend, "it was the most achingly beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"She looked like she had gone into shock afterwards, I'm not surprised who wouldn't want to kiss him? I mean objectively he is gorgeous." Her friend mused.

They continued to babble but Hermione tuned them out. In truth it had felt like the most achingly beautiful moment of her life. She sat down heavily against the stone casement and turned toward the snow covered landscape, her eyes unseeing, looking inwards to the memory of the evening before. Draco had kissed her last night, there in the Great Hall where the whole school could see and it had been the most beautiful of kisses.

She should have known better, the mistletoe around the school was a menace at this time of year but Hermione had been distracted, she had allowed herself to forget that the entrance to the Great Hall was to be avoid like a minefield. Head in her book, as she was want to do, she had collided with something warm and solid. She had been slow to realise what had happened and that she was trapped there. The preternatural stillness of the hall should have given her pause but she was oblivious to it. She was caught, not only by the treacherous plant, by the pewter eyes that immediately looked up and locked with her own.

He didn't say anything, there might have been a time when he would have protested and pouted like an entitled prat but that Draco was long gone. Instead he stood silently, his eyes molten. The rest of existence seemed to slip away as she was held captive in his gaze, trapped by the aura of his warmth. The world seemed to draw in a breath as he tilted her chin up towards him. Too slowly he edged towards her, her heart beat quickening withanticipation. She could feel the warmth of him, his breath teasing her lips. He was so close but still he didn't kiss her. She looked deep into his eyes, as their breath misted together in the chill of the ancient stone castle. She could read it all in his eyes; longing, desire and the knowledge that there would be no turning back from this. They had fenced around each other too long, if he kissed her now some unseen barrier would shatter and she knew he was afraid, afraid of what that might mean.

Still he stalled there his lips so close she could feel the phantom of their touch. She drew in a sharp breath as finally, soft and warm, his lips touched her own. It was the barest of touches. He did not move them, they lay gently atop her own. It ought to have been unsatisfying but the small moan that slipped from her belied that idea. Every fibre of her being hummed at this exquisite human contact. She could feel the throb of his magic as it caressed her own.

He began to pull away but her skin stuck stubbornly to his. _Not enough_ , her inner voice screamed, for a fleeting moment Hermione didn't care where she was or who saw, she wanted more. She leaned in to capture his lips once more, she felt his breath hitch with suppressed desire. She deepened the kiss, her hands running into his hair as his arms lashed her to him. It lasted but a moment before breathlessly they both pulled away. They stood staring bewilderedly at each other then he was gone.

-o0o-

Hermione came out of her reverie aware that the two Ravenclaw girls were still talking.

"She kissed him back I swear, I was nearer than you." The girls were bickering now. Hermione supposed she ought to make her presence known put a stop to it but she couldn't and she continued to listen in.

"Do you suppose that pale hair is soft?" The second year wondered.

"Like silk I'm sure, I would love to run my fingers through hair like that." She sighed.

"I would love to have someone look at me like that, all brooding and smoulder." She giggled. There voices were becoming less distinct it seemed they had finally decided to move on.

Hermione lifted her left hand to her mouth, sinking her teeth into the fleshy base of her index figure as if nipping her own flesh would somehow ease her anxiety. _Had she really kissed him back?_ She couldn't rightly remember. She knew he had fled and she had stood there in the stunned silence incapable of cognisant thought.

"Hermione are you okay?" Ginny had asked.

"I think she might be in shock," Neville had offered helpfully.

"Hermione?" Ginny had tried again but Hermione had not been able to snap out of it. It was as if she was ensorcelled and her only thought was that it had not been enough.

Ginny had looked at Hermione oddly as if a thought had crossed the redheads mind that was too incredible to be voiced.

"Not enough," she had mumbled as Ginny dragged her away. Ginny's brow had furrowed but still, whatever she had been thinking, she held her peace.

-o0o-

Draco had panicked, panting he had barrelled down the corridors to find a safe place. _Shit, shit, shit_. His internal monologue reduced to expletives in his panic. He screamed the password as he raced into the common room to find the sanctuary of his room. He had thrown off his clothes and flung himself into a shower so scolding it had almost immolated his skin.

"Why did I do it?" He had asked himself aloud. Of course he'd had no choice he knew that, but he could have just kissed her quickly and walked away; "but no you fool," he berated himself, "you had to do it slowly," like some torturous seduction. Part of him had wanted to hold back afraid that if he ever once tasted her it would never be enough but a bigger part of him, the romantic idiot, had wanted to kiss her tenderly. Wanted to make it like a first kiss should be. Then Merlin she had let out that tiny moan. Sweet Circe he would give anything to hear that again. After that he had lost all conscious thought but he had this notion she had leaned in for more: "she couldn't have could she?" Draco had asked continuing his monologue. For a moment something bright and extraordinary flared up in Draco, joy. He smiled to himself, let it's candle burn for a moment before angrily stamping it out. "She would never have me." He sneer at his reflection in the misted mirror.

Draco awoke the next morning, tangled in his sheets, a memory of the taste of her lips on his own and he wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing. He dressed carefully and entered the 8th year common room and he knew the moment he stepped from his room that it had not been a dream.

-o0o-


	9. Rather Pleasant

Every eye snapped towards Draco as he entered the eighth year common room. Before he had chance to say a world the red head flew at him. Wand to his throat;

"What the fuck did you think you were doing Malfoy? Hermione is traumatised." Ginny Weasley began to rant.

"What?" Draco attempted to pled ignorance doing his best to play for time.

"Don't play stupid Malfoy it doesn't suit you. Why did you kiss her like that?" Ginny continued to push.

"Why not?" he challenged, "what are you even doing here this is not your common room?" He added trying to deflect the attack.

"It's alright Ginny," a quiet voice came from the corner of the room.

Draco looked at her not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe.

"I didn't mind, it's a Christmas tradition, it was just a bit of mistletoe. No harm done."

Seamus continued to glower at Draco who looked at Hermione in clear disbelief. Had she really just said that? He questioned, wondering if he had been dreaming. Seamus did not seem placated however, there was something possessive in his posture as if the Gryffindor Golden Girl was his to protect.

Hermione sensing the tension spoke again, trying to defuse the situation;

"Really," she protested, "it was actually rather pleasant…"

Whatever had possessed her to elaborate? Hermione had no idea. Seamus began to splutter as he tried to find words; Hermione fought the creeping blush that spread up her neck. Neville looked like he had been stupefied, Ginny looked horrified and Malfoy looked, fleetingly, as if he might sport one of his infamous smirks before he remembered where he was and schooled his features to neutral.

"Granger," he acknowledged her with a polite gentlemanly bow and left the common room as quickly as he could without appearing to panic. It was all an act! Inside Draco was frantic. She had defended him; said kissing him was 'pleasant'. Draco didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Could she really have some feelings for him?

-o0o-

Hermione realised a little too late that her admission had been a faux par;

"What?" she demanded defensively, as she rounded on her friends.

"Malfoy? Kissing Malfoy was pleasant?" Ginny questioned.

"I can assure you, speaking from personal experience," Pansy Parkinson interrupted, " there is nothing unpleasant about kissing Draco. That boy has a wickedly talented tongue."

"Hey! I'm here you know!" Blaise Zabini reminded her.

Blaise and Pansy were two of only a handful of returning 8th year Slytherin students and it was clear they were an item.

"Don't worry darling," Pansy turned to him placatingly, "you compare most favourably, very favourably indeed." She suggested wiggling her brows at him before she continued; "besides Granger is a lucky girl and I think she clearly ought to appreciate something."

"What's that?" Hermione questioned, tilting her head to the side like a curious little bird.

"That blood status was never an issue for Draco, at least not so far as you were concerned."

"What do you mean?" Hermione challenged.

"Oh come on Granger, you can't be that blind!"

Hermione looked confused and it was Seamus who took up the thread of the conversation.

"You can't be serious, he watched her be tortured…" Pansy didn't let him finish.

"She was not the only one tortured that day," she all but snarled, " there are many other forms of torture beyond the physical."

"What are you trying to say Pansy?" Hermione asked trying once again to recover her equilibrium. Pansy stepped forward and, ensuring that she would not be overheard, she whispered;

"Draco Malfoy has been in love with you for years."

-o0o-

Draco had fled the scene unsure where to go, where to hide. He sped through the corridors unaware that he was being followed. Seamus was not the only one incensed that he had dared to lay a tender hand on the Gryffindor Princess and Draco, so wrapped up in his own emotional distress, failed to hear the footfall behind him until it was too late.

-o0o-

Draco had had beatings before but this was the first time he had wondered if he might die before anyone would find him and help him. He had made his way towards the quidditch pitches in his blind panic and it was there that his assailants had left him, bleeding, struggling for breath, his skull throbbing. He couldn't even begin to contemplate the catalogue of injuries he had received but he tried because he knew it was a way to keep conscious.

He tried to stand but when he failed he crawled. The irony was not lost on him that a Malfoy would be reduced to clawing his way through the mud. He managed to reach an old storage shed at the foot of the stands. There were a couple of old brooms that looked like they had been long since abandoned. Somehow he managed to straddle the broom handle, if he could make it home his mother would fix him. This was the only thought his addled brain could manage as with a brisk;

"up!" he commanded the broom to flight.

-o0o-

After the way her friends had grilled her Hermione wanted her own space, more than that she wanted some space to consider her reaction to Draco sodding Malfoy. She knew now that they had some serious chemistry. She supposed, with hindsight, that they always had but that he loved her as Pansy claimed, that simply beggared belief.

Hermione found her way to the Astronomy Tower. It was a place she rarely visited it seemed…haunted but tonight she stepped to the railings encircling the turret and looked out over the darkened landscape. That was when she saw him, his unmistakable, platinum crown glinting in the moonlight.

_What are you doing Malfoy_? She silently questioned, wondering what nefarious act would have him out on a broom after curfew and risking the terms of his probation but before she could consider this any further he fell from the broom.

It was like watching a ballet in slow motion, he leaned and leaned a little further until he overbalanced and tumbled twenty feet to the ground, bouncing twice before he came to a sudden halt and lay there utterly still.

"Malfoy!" she screamed as she took off like a rocket to help the fallen blond.

By the time Hermione reached him she was breathing heavily, sweat pearling on her brow. Malfoy by contrast appeared not to be breathing at all.

"Malfoy," she shrieked at him, "oh shit!," she panicked as she sent up two red flares from her wand, hoping it would summon help.

"Malfoy," she pleaded again, shaking his shoulders, bending forward to see if she could feel his breath, a pulse, a heart beat, any sign of life. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as he coughed, a red ribbon of blood running down his chin.

"Malfoy, can you hear me? Draco?" she sobbed. He made an incoherent groan. Now she realised he was alive she calmed enough to assess the situation. He was a complete mess. There was, what appeared to be, a boot print on his right cheek.

"What the fuck happened to you?" she berated his unresponsive form as she realised these injuries were not simply a result of a fall from a broom.

No one was coming, she panicked, she would have to try and heal him herself. He was still unconscious and bleeding. He needed help but she dare not move him his neck might be broken. She tried to cast a patronus to summon Madame Pomfrey but she couldn't, all the joy seemed to have bled out of her along with Malfoy's life as it spilled on to the darkened lawns. She began to hyperventilate; they would think she had wilfully left him to die. They thought she hated him, he thought she hated him.

"Please Draco, don't die," she begged, "I don't hate you, please hang on. I don't want you to die."

Somewhere in his flickering subconscious Draco heard her and he tried to hang on because she had asked it of him.

—o0o-

It was a quarter past midnight when Madame Pomfrey found the pitiful figure of Hermione Granger, weeping and drenched in Malfoy's blood. Poppy Pomfrey would freely admit that her first thought was that Hermione had killed the blond. Yet she quickly established that the Malfoy heir was not yet dead, though it would be all she could do to save the pair from the fall out of whatever had happened between them.

Hermione blindly marched behind the older witch as she hurriedly levitated Malfoy's body towards the medical wing. Like a mourner following a funeral cortege Hermione followed in shock, her pallor reminiscent of a corpse. Her peers, roused from their beds by the commotion, watched on in stunned silence, it would be later that the whispers would begin and the tale would spread like fiendfyre; the rumour that Hermione Granger had murdered Draco Malfoy.

As they reached the hospital wing Hermione watched in mute horror as Poppy Pomfrey stripped Draco of his clothes. He was so broken; his ribs were blackened, his face swollen beyond recognition but none of that shocked her as much as the lacerations she saw on his back. These were old white scars as if he had been repeatedly whipped or beaten. As the implications of those scars dimly registered Hermione could hold it together no longer, she turned and fled barely making it beyond the exit from the infirmary before she vomited across the stone floor.

It was Luna's small pale hand that snapped her back to reality.

"Come on Hermione," she gently coaxed, "you have had a shock," saying no more the blonde lead her friend by the wrist back to the eight year common room.

-o0o-

It was immediately apparent the news had raced ahead of them. As soon as Hermione stepped through the portrait preternatural silence descended on the room. It was the calm before the storm, before she could take another breath Pansy was upon her. Hands at her throat, in that moment Hermione didn't care to defend herself and she wondered later if the raven haired witch would have killed her had it not been for the timely arrival of the Headmistress.

Pansy's hands fell to her side as if she had been compelled to drop them.

"Miss Granger, you will come with me now!" Hermione winced, she had never heard McGonagall use that tone on her before, "you have some explaining to do. Mr. Zabini see that Miss Parkinson calms down."

-o0o-


	10. Hypocrisy

Hermione followed Professor McGonagall as calmly as she could; trying to ignore the judgmental stares she was given on the way to the Headmistress' study. _Hypocrites_ , she berated them all silently, those who looked at her with such disgust; _you didn't care a shit about him yesterday._

"Sit," she was instructed without further preamble as soon as they were within the confines of the Headmistress' study.

Hermione sat as Minerva McGonagall made her way to her chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"I propose you begin at the beginning."

Hermione did not wish to share her personal feelings about Malfoy with her mentor but she would be damned if she didn't take the opportunity to ensure this would never happen to him ever again. So she explained how she had seen him fall and how he had already been beaten, the footprint on his face and the old wounds on his back.

"It is clear to me," she told her Headmistress as she concluded her statement, "that Draco Malfoy has been systematically and repeatedly beaten, I suspect for much of his life. This has to stop," she told the older woman indigently. "He cannot grow and become a respectable member of wizarding society if all he knows is pain and violence."

When McGonagall failed to immediately respond Hermione continued her rant.

"May I ask you a question professor?"

McGonagall nodded.

"Was he sent here for rehabilitation or punishment?"

"Hermione," she let out a sigh, "I recognise that it cannot be easy for Mr. Malfoy but…"

Something inside Hermione snapped.

"It's not right professor, he is being bullied and victimised daily and he cannot defend himself. No one cares what becomes of him."

"Though it surprises me somewhat Miss Granger that clearly is not true!" Hermione bristled but before she could speak again the Headmistress clarified,

"clearly you care deeply what happens to him."

Hermione deflated, all her bluster seeped from her as a bright crimson blush spread across her features.

"I…" Hermione faltered.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall stopped her holding up a hand, "I see now that I have not been as diligent in the care of all my students as I should have been. I will freely admit that I am not fond of Mr. Malfoy…Professor Dumbledore was a very dear friend…I find it difficult to reconcile Mr. Malfoy's previous actions with his position now…"

"You can't…"

"Please Hermione let me finish," Professor McGonagall insisted, forestalling any further interruption, "I see now that I have been remiss in my duties. I should have seen what was happening to Mr. Malfoy sooner and I should have put a stop to it. My personal feelings aside, I have a duty of care to all who study within these halls. I have neglected it in Mr. Malfoy's case and it appears it almost cost him his life. Rest assured Miss Granger it will not happen again. I will ensure that Mr. Malfoy is offered all possible protection. You may rest easy on his account. Now I think you may go."

Hermione stood but as she reached the door she paused.

"Professor," she asked, "would it be alright if I visit him, Malfoy that is?"

"If you wish, give Madame Pomfrey this," she said as she produced a permission slip.

-o0o-

"I am not sure you should be here Miss Granger," the Nurse challenged before Hermione had even spotted the older witch.

"It wasn't me Madame Pomfrey, I didn't hurt him." Hermione had to admit it hurt to see the doubt on the older witches face. "I have a permission slip from Professor McGonagall." She continued holding out the piece of parchment.

"I see," Madame Pomfrey said her tone clip and judgmental. "Then I supposed we had better allow you in. Although only for a moment, he can't speak to you we have had to place him in a magically induced coma."

Madame Pomfrey indicated the screened off area at the back of the room. Hermione made her way quietly to Malfoy's bed. He still looked so fragile, his skin was paper white, the swelling on his face had gone yet, some of the bruising had been healed, his face had a greenish hue, he looked like a wraith.

"Malfoy," she whispered to him as she considered taking his hand, "I won't let this happen to you again," she promised, "especially not on my account."

Hermione knew she ought not to touch him but she couldn't resist. Gingerly she brushed her fingers across the back of his hand. She hoped it was enough to let him know he was not alone.

-o0o-

Draco remained in the infirmary for more than a week. He was so badly injured that even with the help of magic his healing was slow. Hermione continued to visit but Malfoy was not aware of that for she waited until he was asleep.

By the seventh night Draco was almost healed and he lay in his bed, this time in a natural sleep, completely unaware of the pretty Gryffindor at his side. A Gryffindor who sat there with increasing admiration of his features, who had determined he looked so achingly beautiful that she wanted to trace every line of his features with kisses. He would never know this because come the morning, as the purple haze of dawn slipped across the landscape, she slipped away. The only evidence of her presence the lingering scent of jasmine that persisted in her wake. A scent that impregnated Draco's senses and made him feel safe.

-o0o-

As the weeks passed Hermione continued to seek the solace of the Astronomy Tower. It was a place that others left alone where she could, she believed, be guaranteed safety. How wrong she was, there was no place of safety for her, even though they had all thought the war was over. It had not been just her friends that had been offended by Malfoy's little display under the mistletoe. There were still those for whom old prejudices died hard. Those who would not weep if the most prominent of muggleborns had an unexplained accident.


	11. Fiendfyre

Hermione's tranquility was interrupted by an unmistakable roar, a sound that had been for her the stuff of nightmares; fiendfyre. It roared like a snarling beast, surging up the spiralling stairs behind her. Hermione stood momentarily paralysed by fear but as clarity returned she realised she was trapped. There was no way out, she could not apparate out of the astronomy tower and there were no brooms for her to fly to safety this time.

_Think Hermione,_ she berated herself, _could she jump and cast a cushioning charm to break her fall? What if she lost her wand?_ She moved to the railing looking out at the drop below but as she did vertigo threatened. The landscape rolled beneath her. She was overcome by dizziness and she thought she might vomit. Throwing herself back from the edge she dropped on her arse, trying to control her breathing as panic induced hyperventilation. She couldn't breathe, panic and smoke were tightening her airways, Hermione's consciousness began to flicker she knew she needed cleaner air. Dragging herself back towards the edge she gasped for air, she was going to have to jump. Dragging herself to the edge she poised to throw herself off the astronomy tower.

-o0o-

The fire alarm had been raised and the whole school traipsed out onto the turf. Students congregated in their houses ready for the professors to do a roll call. Draco made his way reluctantly to join the other eighth year students, like everyone else he assumed that it was just a drill. That was until he saw the inferno that had engulfed the astronomy tower. He scoffed as he reflected that he didn't care if the tower burnt to the ground. It was a place that haunted him, that he never wished to visit again, he would be glad to see it reduced to cinder. He watched the flames spread up the tower, licking the sky with angry tongues of flame but it was the sound of the blaze that stilled his musing. He knew that roar, he knew the sound that sprung from the angry maws of those flames. This was not an accident this was fiendfyre he knew it, that sound terrified him it was the soundtrack to his nightmares. The percussion beat of his heart accelerated with fear. His brow began to prick with sweat as he was caught by the memory of Crabbe's screams as he was consumed by the fiery beast he had unleashed but it was another scream that broke him from his reverie.

-o0o-

She couldn't do it! No amount of logic could suppress Hermione's primal fear of the drop before her. She was going to die. Frantic, her brave Gryffindor courage gone, her brain's higher functions suppressed by her flight and fright reaction, all she could do was scream. Even her scream was a pitiful thing, choked and strangled by fumes it faded quickly in to a lung shattering cough. All she could think was, that this would be her end. With one last effort she tried again.

"Help!" she yelled with all her might, subsiding again it to a spluttering cough. _Please help!_ She silently intoned.

-o0o-

He had heard that scream before but this scream was real. It was not the phantom of his nightmare. Not the scream of the girl in his memory who writhed in agony on the manor's marble floor.

"Granger?" he question frantically scanning the eighth years gathered around him, looking for her brunette curls. She wasn't there.

"Help!" he heard her voice again, as the trembling cry reached his ear above the hubbub of the assembled mass. That was when he spotted her clinging to the railing of the astronomy tower. _Jump_ , he silently encouraged her but she seemed frozen by fear.

He ran towards the tower, elbowing his way through the crowd of onlookers. _Had no one else seen her? No one else heard her?_

"Jump," he found himself hollowing but she took no heed, nor did anyone else.

The shocking realisation came to him, as he watched her crumple to her knees, that if he didn't save her then perhaps no one would.

Draco did not consider himself brave, he did not consider himself a hero, far from it, but he would not leave her to die.

"Accio my broom," he yelled before he had chance to think on it any further.

He had reached the base of the tower by the time his broom hit his hand and he instantly launched himself off the ground, spiralling through the air in an attempt to avoid the flame enveloping the tower. By the time he reached the balcony, to which she was clinging, the smoke was so thick he could hardly make her out.

"Granger!" He called, at first she seemed unresponsive but she had heard him her terrified gaze snapped towards his. He held out his hand to her but she shook her head unwilling or unable to move. Draco dare not land. If he did they might never make it. "Trust me, please!" he implored her, "I don't want you to die," he said, in an unconscious echo of her words weeks before. He risked hovering a little closer but as he did a sudden flare divided the air between them.

"Draco," she screamed as the wall of flame split them.

Below the crowd were now aware of the drama that was unfolding above them. As the professors frantically fought to control the fire, Ginny was perhaps one amongst many who gasped to see the blond trying to rescue her friend and she was perhaps not the only one who, for the first time in her life, hoped the blond was okay as the flames knocked him back.

"Come on Hermione," she yelled into the night, "take his damn hand!"

_Damn that was close_ , Draco inwardly cursed as he manoeuvred back towards the petite witch.

"Come on Granger," he cajoled, "where is that Gryffindor bravery? I'm getting rather hot out here," he said hoping to rile her into action where his coaxing had failed. She took a step forward then faltered.

"Please Hermione," he begged gently, changing to her given name, "you can't end like this, not after everything…" he couldn't finish, suddenly choked by the thought she might not make it, because she couldn’t trust him. He reached out again, "look at me Hermione, look at me, look into my eyes, don't look down, take my hand."

As she locked eyes with him he saw something within her galvanise and her hand shot out towards him. Grabbing her wrist he hauled her up behind him and kicked up into the night sky. Neither of them heard the cheer that went out below.

Hermione clung to his back like a limpet, she didn't think she would ever let him go. She was too shocked to process what had happened, all she knew in that moment was that this was her safe place.

Malfoy brought them gently to the ground and before she could protest she was dragged away by Madame Pomfrey but she couldn't look away from him, as she was dragged away her eyes remained fixed in wonder on the blond who had saved her life.

-o0o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all you wonderful people who have read so far and left kudos. A few more chapters before we hear from the elderly Draco as he puzzles through Hermione’s bequest. Hope you keep reading I have written up to c27000 word now and still going so there is a far bit of a ride to go yet. Please feel free to comment I would really enjoy your feedback.


	12. Reluctant Hero

Draco had never expected to be a feted hero yet it seemed that saving the Gryffindor Golden Girl would do that, make a man a hero. He didn't feel heroic, in truth it was a selfish act. He couldn't imagine the world without her in it. Others might have expected him to bask in the glow of his heroism but he could not. There were only two things, as far as he was concerned, that merited any celebration. The first that she was alive and the second that perhaps, may be, now they would all leave him be. Of course he quickly found the latter was too much to ask.

"Malfoy," Longbottom was the first to approach him, "well done!"

"Yeah, good job, Malfoy," Seamus chipped in as Draco tried to make his way back to his room without a fuss. Draco just nodded his head in quiet acknowledgement and continued on his route. He had almost made it when Ginny Weasley bound into the eighth year common room as if she lived there.

"Malfoy!" she yelled urgently, Draco froze fearful there was bad news after all. Slowly he turned, not daring to take a breath. "She's going to be alright," he nodded unable to stifle the small sigh of relief as he once again turned away. "Malfoy," he paused again but didn't turn around, "thank you!"

"It was nothing," he acknowledge before all but diving through his door.

In his absence the others had looked at each other askance, amazed at the modest response, wondering if he was embarrassed to have saved Hermione. The only thing Draco heard through the narrowing gap, as his door closed, was Weasley's surprised comment;

"Well who would have thought it? Malfoy a hero and modest to boot!"

-o0o-

For the next few days everyone did as Draco had wished and simply left him alone. Whilst he would not drop his guard he sensed, at least from the Gryffindor's, a lessening of hostility. For the first time in a long time he wondered if eventually, if he did the right things, may be, he would not be such a pariah after all.

It was two days before Granger emerged from the infirmary. The effects of the smoke inhalation had been worse than they had at first thought but now she was out and about and sitting with the others at the Gryffindor table. He smiled faintly to see her well.

"It was a good thing you did Draco," Blaise told him as he followed his line of sight, "don't ever doubt it and I'm sure she will thank you."

"I don't need her to thank me," he said more harshly than he intended, "she can never owe me anything," he added more gently.

Blaise looked at his friend sadly,

"You know mate, one day you will have to forgive yourself."

Draco scoffed, Blaise didn't push it any further but he looked at the Gryffindor Princess across from them and wondered if he should interfere. He had a very strong feeling that she was the only thing that would save his friend. Slowly a plan began to form in Blaise's mind perhaps he could help his friend where he refused to help himself.

-o0o-

She only wanted to thank him but all that week, try as she might, she could not get Draco on his own. Eventually she understood that he was avoiding her and the only way she would get to speak to him was either to ambush him or do so very publicly. After her attempts at ambush failed she resigned herself to a public display of gratitude. No matter what it might cost her to do so she would walk over to the Slytherin table at breakfast and she would thank him.

She had begun to think that he might be skipping breakfast that morning, he was so late breakfast was almost over. None the less she steeled herself for the task she had set. Standing determinedly she crossed the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table. The Slytherin's stilled as she approached many with forks paused in midair.

"Malfoy," she said a little more quietly than she intended.

He looked up but said nothing.

"I just wanted to say thank you for…"

"No!" he bit out, his colour rapidly rising, "you don't thank me for anything!"

Hermione stepped back as if he had struck her.

"But…"she spluttered.

He was out of his seat now, "no you-do-not-thank-me not ever!"

Hermione looked at him in horror was he embarrassed by what he had done, that he had saved a mudblood? Why else would he respond like this? Before she could question it or him further he fled the room leaving Hermione stranded in the no man's land between the rows of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Help came from an unexpected quarter;

"He's a reluctant hero Granger," Blaise said calmly, "I'm sure he knows you're grateful."

"Well…oh is that the time? I better be going to… the library…yes I need to go to the library," she continued to dither like a fool as she turned back to collect her things.

As soon as she was out of the Great Hall she was determined to find him. Surprisingly it didn't take her long. Malfoy was in the potion's corridor waiting for class although he was terribly early.

"Malfoy," she began cautiously but as soon as he saw her he bolted.

"Malfoy wait," she yelled as she set off after him. He was much taller than her but at least his blond hair was not easy to miss. He must have thought he had outpaced her but she just caught a glance of him as he ducked into the boy's lavatories.

She stormed after him heedless of the fact that she shouldn't be there.

"What is the matter with you?" she confronted him without any preamble.

"You can't be in here Granger," he cautioned in a very controlled tone.

"I don't care; you are not going to hide from me!" she countered.

He raised a brow but said nothing but that only raised her ire further.

"You're embarrassed aren't you," she challenged, "you can't look me in the face because you know you shouldn't have done it, what will all your pureblood friends think that you saved a Mudblood?"

"What!" he exclaimed sudden shock shattering the mask on his face, "you think…yes! I'm embarrassed Granger."

She might have been satisfied by his response if deep down she hadn't wanted to believe it.

"I'm embarrassed," he pushed, bearing down on her with menace, "embarrassed that you think you owe me anything, embarrassed that after I stood by and watched my aunt torture you, you think you could ever owe me anything, embarrassed that you think I could do anything less after Potter saved me from the same fate as Crabbe. Yes Granger I _am_ embarrassed. But that wasn't what you thought was it. You're just like the rest of them. You had to think the worst, you had to make me the villain!"

She reached out to touch his arm but he batted her hand away, something told her she needed to say sorry but this was not an apology she could give in words. She reached out again,

"Granger," he hissed pulling back, "so help me…what are you…" he faltered as her hand gently caressed his cheek, "stop it," he said weakly. She didn't listen pushing her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him forward, "you can't…" he stuttered, his voice now a choked whisper. She was so near now she could feel his short panicked breaths. He had kissed her so tenderly that first time under the mistletoe but this time, as the first shock of her lips brushing his passed, he leaned in and kissed her like he would devour her. It was raw want, mixed with pain and anguish.

"You can't do this…" he managed, in a pained whisper, "not with me…"

She didn't allow him to finish she just kissed him again. _Why not?_ Her lips challenged him silently. For a moment he responded but then, seeming to gather himself. He gently backed away before shaking his head as if to clear it.

"We can't," he told her stoically before he turned and retreated the way he had come.

He was such a bloody coward, _why couldn't he speak to her?_ He internally ranted as he fled from her yet again, _why couldn't he just tell her how he felt? Because you don't deserve her_ , he told himself. _You can never deserve her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your Kudos. Thank you to jacpin2002 for taking the trouble to comment on this story too.


	13. Enigma

Hermione thought she might never understand the enigma that was Draco Malfoy. He had kissed her like it was to be his last act upon this Earth and then he had fled. She couldn't decide if he loved her or hated her. She had deduced he was not neutral, he had never been neutral. She had enjoyed too much of his attention for that to be the case. If she was honest with herself she knew he was struggling in the post war world. He was lonely, all but friendless, yet she feared he would remain that way if he could not reach out to someone, anyone.

-o0o-

Professor McGonagall rose to address the whole school as the students gathered at dinner that evening.

"Good evening students. As you are all aware earlier this week there was a catastrophic fire which has sadly damaged the Astronomy Tower beyond repair. Unfortunately, I have to report that this fire was not an accident! Preliminary investigations have shown that the fire was a result of fiendfyre. Someone deliberately cast that spell, we believe knowing that a student was trapped above. As a consequence the incident is being investigated as an attempted murder. I therefore have to inform you all that no one is above suspicion and you will all be expected to account for your whereabouts. A team of Aurors will arrive at Hogwarts tomorrow. I expect everyone's cooperation and may I remind you that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. I will not have vigilante justice in my school!"

Despite the Headmistress’ warning Hermione despaired as many eyes turned accusingly towards Malfoy. _How dare they_? she fumed inwardly, he had been the one to save her. Perhaps his reluctance to accept her thanks would do him no favours? Would it draw suspicion to him? Hermione was certain he was innocent. Regardless of what his enemies and detractors might say but she had an ominous feeling that they would try to make a scapegoat of him. He would be an easy target, the former Death Eater, who had most likely been alone and unable to provide an alibi. Whether Malfoy recognised the danger or not she knew he was ill placed to defend himself.

Hermione was determined to defend Malfoy, she rounded on the first group of witches she heard gossiping:

"Do you suppose Malfoy did it to make himself look good, improve his reputation by looking a hero?" She heard one of the group of fifth year Ravenclaws speculate.

"Don't you dare," she all but spat out, "Malfoy saved me at great personal risk, have you ever seen fiendfyre? No, I thought not, well pray that you never do! Only a fool would set fiendfyre and throw themselves into it. Malfoy may be many things but a fool he is not. If I hear you spreading any more vicious gossip you will be in detention for… the rest of your life!" Hermione finished in high dudgeons. Walking away leaving the little gaggle of Ravenclaws in stunned silence in her wake.

Despite her dander Hermione was not able to stop the damage. The theory spread despite all her efforts to staunch it and then the Aurors arrived. It was like blood hounds scenting prey, immediately Malfoy was suspect number one but what really disappointed her was her two best friends.

-o0o-

As junior Aurors Harry and Ron had arrived with the posse from the DMLE and they immediately bought into the narrative that had been circulating through the school, the 'Malfoy did it' narrative. Hermione was incensed.

"Ron!" she chastised when she had time alone with her old friends that day, "you can't really think he would deliberately use fiendfyre, he barely escaped the Room of Requirements during the final battle. Fiendfyre must be the stuff of nightmares for him. Do you really believe he would cast it and then walk into it?"

In the end she had persuaded Harry of the injustice of the situation. Eventually they had been able to prove his innocence, though they never found the true culprits. It was in that context that the ministry decided to leave Aurors behind to keep the Golden Girl safe and of course it was Harry and Ron who volunteered to provide Hermione's personal security. Ron deeming it a great idea given he could have all the fun with no classes.

Hermione hated it! She didn't think their presence could be any more intrusive if they tried. After two weeks of being shadowed everywhere, and a rather unpleasant altercation between Ron and Malfoy, she snapped.

"I can't do this anymore," she told Harry close to tears, "I can’t concentrate on my work, I can't breathe with you constantly at my shoulder, please leave me alone. I can look after myself," she all but begged them.

"Is it something I said?" Ron asked looking contrite.

"Oh I don't know Ron," she answered somewhat sharply. "let me see; 'I don't like the way you look at her Malfoy,' 'don't you even think about talking to her Malfoy,' 'she's not for the likes of you Malfoy,' what right have Ron?" She demanded now crying in earnest, "what right have you to decide who speaks to me, who I am good enough for?"

"Okay 'Mione, calm down it's only Malfoy." Ron responded a little too dismissively.

"Well what if I like the way he looks at me? What if I want to talk to him?" she demanded.

"Yeah but you don't" Ron replied, still not getting that his assumptions intruded on her freedom, that it was controlling to a degree Hermione could not bear.

"It might be my deepest desire to shag Malfoy's brains out for all you know Ronald Weasley and it is my right to decide that not you!" she screamed at him in frustration.

"Yeah but…" Ron continued to protest.

Draco's entrance into the eighth year common room at that point must have been fated. He had barely cleared the doorframe when a bundle of brunette curls flew at him. Pushing him back against the door and stole his breath with a searing kiss. Draco was barely conscious of the cat calls that came from the room at large as Hermione snogged him to within an inch of his life. Finally coming up for air she all but snarled at Weasley.

"I get to decide and if I want to talk to Malfoy, I will damn it! If I want to snog him or shag him five ways to Sunday I will."

Thus ending her rant she marched off to her room.

Draco couldn't help the ridiculous grin that spread across his face as he watched Weasley's face go puce.

"Don't get used to it Malfoy," the red head spat out as he left the room like a storm cloud.

-o0o-

"Hermione Granger," Ginny chuckled, "you saucy minx, I've just heard you threatened to shag Malfoy 'five ways to Sunday.’ Merlin I would have loved to have seen Ron's face."

Ginny was almost breathless with mirth now and Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little at her own boldness.

"You are making a bit of a habit of kissing Malfoy of late," Ginny continued, "he must be good, how many times is that now twice?"

Hermione blushed.

"Wow!" Ginny commented too astute as always, "more than twice?"

"It was an accident. It sort of just happened…I didn't mean…" she didn't get to finish.

"You keep telling yourself that Hermione, whatever excuse you want to make but no one kisses a boy three times and doesn't mean it. But be careful Hermione," Ginny warned, her tone suddenly serious, "he might not mean to hurt you but ultimately he will. He is from a pureblood family, he has likely been betrothed from birth, have fun with him by all means, feel free to 'shag him five ways to Sunday,' but don't give him your heart. He will break it."


	14. Hogsmeade Weekend

Draco awoke the next morning, tangled in his sheets a memory of the taste of her lips on his own. He knew he had dreamt of her. Dreamt of laying in her arms and he wanted to sob into his pillow when he remembered that it would never be possible. No matter what she might say in her bravado.

He swallowed down the bitter bile. He had tried to be with her,back in fourth year he had wanted to take her to the Yule ball he had begged his father to let him date her. His father had been furious. He had been beaten soundly for that. Now it was not that he feared his father, he had long since stopped caring about his father’s wishes, it was Hermione her life, her safety, her reputation.

She was the brightest witch of her age with the brightest future. All an association with him would do would be to taint her. Hold her back. He knew she could change the wizarding world make it a better place for all their children and their children’s children. He could not get in the way of that but there was still a small selfish part of him that wanted to be with her even if it was only once. He thought he could live a life time on the memory of being intimate with her once, of living his fantasies of her.

-o0o-

Hermione rose for breakfast not knowing if she dared to face her friends or if she could look Malfoy in the eye after her outburst yesterday. She felt humiliated now that she had suggested she might be prepared to ‘shag’ the blond. It wasn’t that the idea didn’t appeal to her because frankly it really really did. It was just that she had openly admitted being willing to perform a sexual act. She was Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, unsullied and she had behaved like a common whore. She was certain Malfoy would never let her live it down. She had seen that almost smirk on his face after she had kissed him. He was going to torture her with the knowledge that she might be attracted to him. She was sure he would.

Hermione was wrong, woefully wrong. Malfoy didn’t come to breakfast and when she saw him in class he was quiet and almost stoic. Hermione had not considered that perhaps he was embarrassed or worst offended. Merlin, she realised, I sexually assaulted him. Maybe she needed to apologise to him. Yes, she decided she would apologise but she needed to get away from her two bodyguards.

If only it was that easy! Harry and Ron followed her through the corridors of Hogwarts like a couple of mastiffs. It was as if her declaration the day before had only encouraged them to guard her more closely. To keep her away from Malfoy.

Between Malfoy’s avoidance and her friend’s ‘protection’ Hermione couldn’t see how she would ever have the chance to speak to the blond but then she had an idea.

-o0o-

“Professor,” Hermione called to get the ageing witches attention as the class left transfiguration.

“Yes Miss Granger.” McGonagall responded not in the least surprised to find one of her most able students staying behind at the end of class.

“I was wondering,” the petite Gryffindor began hesitantly, “do the terms of Malfoy’s probation allow him to go to Hogsmeade?”

For a moment McGonagall looked at her as if she didn’t know her. Feeling awkward Hermione carried on talking.

“I wanted to thank him. I also owe him an apology and I thought...” Hermione trailed off suddenly thinking it was a stupid idea.

“Mr. Malfoy may leave the grounds with my permission as long as he returns by curfew.”

Hermione bit her lip.

“Would you write the permission slip for him professor. I would like to surprise him.”

“Provided he gets into no trouble between now and then you will have your permission slip.” The older witch agreed, “now off you go.”

Too busy finalising her plans, Hermione did not see the curious look on the headmistress’ face as she walked away.

-o0o-

Draco was not sure what he felt when he found the note from Granger inviting him to go to Hogsmeade with her. He had to read the note twice before he believed it. She wanted to take him to Hogsmeade! She was certifiable if she thought that wouldn’t cause the rumour mill to switch into overdrive. Though she made it clear it was not a date more ‘a thank you and apology’ Draco knew their peers would perceive things differently. He would have to turn her down of course. Though he worried, given she had gone to the trouble of obtaining permission, she might be greatly offended. Draco had to think of the fallout. His position at Hogwarts was precarious. The intimidation and victimisation had died down after his heroics but could he risk being seen to ‘date’ the Golden Girl? Then there was the issue of the wonder duo. He could see it now the four of them sharing a cosy nook at Madame Poddifoots. Draco chuckled to himself as visions of the Weasel staring longingly into Potty’s eyes dance before his eyes. Then there was the prospect of watching the ginger go puce if Draco even so much as smiled at Hermione.

If he was being honest with himself if he thought he might have liked the time alone with Granger. The time to talk to her, beg her forgiveness for his past wrongs, he would be tempted to accept. She didn’t need to thank him and what did she think she needed to apologies for? He decided to summoned a quill he would write and tell her that though he couldn’t accept she had nothing to thank him or apologise for. It was only when his quill didn’t appear that he realised he had left his bag in the common room.

He had barely set foot out the door when the object of his thoughts tripped over him. He would, in the past, have scolded her for her clumsiness. Perhaps it was a mark of how he had changed that instead he knelt down to help her pick up her scattered tomes. She looked up to thank him. He couldn’t help but notice her surprise when she realised it was him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. _Was that a blush?_ Draco wondered captivated by the delicate flush that spread across her cheeks. “Did you see my note?” She asked bitting her lip, an affectation that he had long ago realised was a nervous tic.

“Yes, thank you for the offer...”

“Don’t!” She begged, “you were going to say but...I get it you don’t want to be seen with some one like me.”

“No...it’s not that. You can’t afford to be seen with me.”

She cocked her head at him as if she didn’t understand what he had said.

“You can’t think that.”

“Why? I’m a Death Eater you’re the Golden Girl.”

“Don’t call me that, and don’t call yourself that,” she said in exasperation.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because we are both more than that and whilst ever people see that, see us stand apart, this world will never heal.”

Draco looked at her shocked.

“Can I ask you something Draco?”He nodded reluctantly. “Are you afraid to be seen with me?”

“No,” he answered immediately.

“Then let’s prove something to the world. Let’s prove purebloods and muggleborns don’t need to be enemies. Come to Hogsmeade with me.”

Draco knew a challenge when he saw one. Perhaps she was right maybe they should be blazing a trail for a better world.

“Okay but no Potter or Weasley.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

-o0o-

Although Hermione had agreed to ditch her bodyguards she wasn’t entirely sure she could achieve it. Since their return to Hogwarts the two Aurors had clung to her like a bad smell. She could attempt to loose them but she was afraid they were too good for that. It took awhile but by the time dinner was over that evening and they had all returned to the common room Hermione had a plan. She waited until Draco had gone to his room before she spoke to the two boys. She was careful to avoid any hint that Draco was in anyway involved.

“Harry,” she began broaching the subject with the more reasonable of the pair. “Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed.

“Well you see...I have a date and I would appreciate it. Well I would rather you and Ron were not there. I would be awkward. I mean...” she paused blushing. “What if he wants to ...well you know.”

“Who are you going with?” Ron insisted on knowing.

Shit, Hermione silently intoned. She gave Harry a pleading look hoping he would help her out.

“I guess that’s private?” Harry offered.

_God bless Harry Potter_! She silently intoned.

“Thank you Harry. I want to keep it quiet for now.”

“You can’t seriously agree to this.” Ron protested, “what if she is attacked.”

“I can defend myself. I won’t be on my own and besides no one will know in advance what I’m doing, where I’m going.”

“I don’t know Hermione,” Ron said reluctantly.

“Please!” She begged.

“Alright Hermione,” Harry agreed for both of them.

“Thank you,” she beamed.


	15. A Short Sojourn by the Beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter today because it’s the weekend and I haven’t had time to post anything for the last few days.

Draco paced the common room nervously. They had waited until everyone else had left before setting off toward Hogsmeade, hoping to to avoid the crowds and too much attention.

They walked in awkward silence. It was Hermione who broke first.

“I wanted to apologise.”

She watch Draco’s jaw clench.

“You don’t...”

She continued to talk over him... “I shouldn’t have launched myself at you that way. It was inexcusable.”

He laughed, it was a wonderful sound. Hermione didn’t think she had ever heard him do that before.

“Trust me Granger, Hermione,” he corrected, “you can kiss me like that any time you wish.”

She looked at him wide eyed.

“I thought...I thought you wouldn’t like me touching you.”

Draco sighed he decided to tell her something that he perhaps ought to have kept to himself.

“You are beautiful why would I ever not want you touch me? You don’t believe I believe all that rubbish about your blood being filthy. I never really believed that.”

“Then why did you treat me like that.”

“Because it was expected of me, because if I had done anything else I would have made an even bigger target of you.”

He was about to begin the apology that he had already promised himself when he heard something behind them.

Both Draco and Hermione spun around wands out in a fighting stance, both aware that someone had followed them.

Hermione didn’t wait for the confrontation she grasped Draco’s forearm and side along apparated them both away.

Draco stumbled forward, the surprise robbing him of his usual grace, and found himself kneeling in soft golden sand.

“Sorry,” Hermione immediately apologies, “it was the first place I thought of.”

“Where are we?”

“The North Coast of Wales, my grandmother had a holiday cottage just along the coast from here.”

“Are we safe here?”

She nodded.

Draco sighed his shoulders visibly dropped. Hermione sat down in the sand next to him.

“It’s beautiful here.” He commented leaning back and tilting his face towards the sun.

“Then I think we should stay,” Hermione announced as she transfigured her jeans and jumper into a fine cotton lawn summer dress.

“Come on,” she challenged you can’t wear that to the beach.

“It’s barely Spring Granger,”

“Warming charm, come on we can pretend it’s a bright summers day. We can forget about that other world for a few hours.”

Shaking his head, whilst admiring her vivacious attitude, Draco transfigured his own jeans and shirt into cool linens.His shirt that same cerulean that he knew made the blue in his eyes pop.

“That’s better, now you look relaxed and very handsome.” She offered, biting her lip as though the compliment might itself bite her. ”So what shall we do?” Clearly desperate to change the subject.

“What does one do at the beach?” He asked.

“You haven’t been to the beach before?”

“Malfoy’s don’t sit in the sand.” He scoffed. She realised quickly that he was not being seriously. That it was self-deprecating humour.

“Well come on Mister too posh to get sand between your toes. Take your shoes of let’s go paddling.”

“Paddling?”

“Walking through the shallows.”

“You’re joking it’s freezing.”

“Coward,” she called as she raced towards the surf.

_Oh what the hell_? Draco decided, toeing off his shoes and following in her wake. He was right it was bloody freezing but somehow the motion of the waves, the pull of the sand beneath his soles was calming.

They splashed their way along the shore line, beach combing. Hermione found sea glass and coral pearls and she collected them in a small garishly coloured bucket that she transfigured from a large shell. She explained the muggle concept of a bucket and spade and building sand castles. So they spent an hour or so building a sand sculpture of Hogwarts that was guarded by a dragon. Hermione attempted to build the ‘muggle’ way but after several towers collapsed under their own weight she conceded that perhaps, in this instance, the use of magic might be advantageous.

“What now?” He asked as they admired their masterpiece.

“Let’s fly a kite.”

“A what?” Draco looked at her askance.

“It seems today really is going to be a day of firsts.” She told him as she shook out a piece of newsprint, they had earlier capture as it rolled along the beach. Draco watched in rapped fascination as she created what appeared to be a paper dragon on a string. “Come on,” she laughed as she raced along the beach trying to get the paper dragon to catch the air.

Draco was spellbound. He already knew she was beautiful but like this, carefree, vivacious, tumbling through the spindrift. He wanted to capture this moment for ever and when she turned over her shoulder and smiled at him, he was sure his heart stopped. Suddenly, he felt a burning hunger for her that had to be sated.

“Wait Granger!” He yelled as he raced after her. Draco had longer legs and as he closed the distance she began to zigzag towards the dunes in an attempt to escape. Finally he rugby tackled her to the ground and they rolled together down the soft sand into the secluded vale of the dunes.

As he tumbled on top of her Draco was bewitched by the sparkle of laughter in her eyes. He had done that, he realised, he had made her laugh. Her eyes were glassy but it was with mirth not pain. This is what it should have been like all along, their friendship or what ever this was. He should have been making her laugh not making her cry.

Draco couldn’t help it, she was their beneath him her curls fanned out, a halo against the golden sand. He couldn’t help leaning forward to steal a kiss.

-o0o-

Hermione was breathless and not just because they had tumbled through the dunes. As Draco rose to his elbows he locked eyes with her. His face was alive with emotion. The mask he so often wore gone. For the first time since she had met him she thought she could read him and what she read left her breathless with anticipation. _Kiss me_ , she begged him silently and he did. He was like a thief, cautious, ready to run but as he reached the prize he committed and stole not just her breath but her heart.

The attraction between them was like a force of nature. She didn’t over think it. Her heart was racing as the kiss deepened and like before, under the mistletoe, to kiss him was not enough. She wanted to devour him, she wanted to be closer. If she could have climbed inside him she would have done. Her hands carded through his hair, ran down the long muscles on his back.She felt him grab her behind, pulling her closer and her breath hitched when she felt his length rigid between them. Why wasn’t she afraid? Why didn’t she want to push him away? She asked rhetorically, _because she wanted this more than she could ever have believed she could._

It was Draco who broke away, gasping for air. He rested his forehead gently against hers.

“Merlin I want you Granger,” even the deep rasp of his voice made her core tighten, “but not here. I want to take my time, court you slowly, love you like you deserve and at this moment I estimate we have ten minutes before curfew.”

She had been so wrapped up in him she had not noted the purple hue that had spread across the horizon.

“Shit,” she uttered much to Draco’s amusement, “I promised McGonagall you would be back before curfew. Your probation...”

“It’s alright Hermione I only need to be on the grounds not in my bed. We can still make it.”

They didn’t bother to reconfigure their clothes, grabbing their shoes they spun and apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts.

The pair were still laughing as they tumbled through the portrait.

“Well mister Malfoy,” Hermione began in her best McGonagall impression, “it’s passed curfew. Shouldn’t you be tucked up in bed?”

“Care to join me?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

It was as he said this that the pair realised they were not alone. A stern faced Harry and an angry looking Ron stood to face them.

“Hermione where have you been?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter returns to the earlier plot line of the elderly time line and Hermione’s bequest.


	16. Many Many Years Later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes us back to Draco as he considers Hermione’s bequest.

**Many many years later...**

Draco shook the snow globe and watched again as the snow swirled around her. He had been happy that day, hopeful. For a few precious hours he had believed the world could be a different place and that they could be together. For a few precious hours his past didn’t matter.

He remembered how beautiful she had been, how much he had yearned for her and how Weasley had ruined it. He shook the globe again lost in the vortex of his dreams but as he did a small bundle he had barely noticed caught his eye. She had left him something else. His hands trembled as he open the black velvet parcel and then he gasped.

Her bequest was not just fine words. _Where had she got this from? It was certainly illegal_. Definitely dangerous they were supposed to have all been destroyed. He scrambled to reach across the table at his side. _What was it she had said?_

‘I offer you a second chance, the means to spend a life time with me rather than a life time of misery. Be brave my love, you know the moment stand up and claim me.’

Shit, she meant it, she meant for him to go back and she had given him the means but the moment? There were so many moments. Could it be the moment in the globe? She was asking him to break the law would she make it so obvious? He didn’t care about the law, he would break every law known to man if it would bring her back to him. He had to be sure. He would only get one chance at this. He had to be certain. He had known her for almost one hundred years. There were so many moments. They had never really been able to let each other go but it couldn’t be their latter years if they were to have a life together.

_Was he being selfish? What of their children? Would Rose and Scorpius cease to exist? She couldn’t want him to do that. Their children’s love story was one to rival their own. What right did he have?_

Doubt, it was an old friend now. He had always doubted himself, doubted his worth, doubted that she could ever really love him. Yet here was the incontrovertible truth. She would have him cross dimensions to reach her and damn it he would. _He would go to her but what if he caused a paradox? What if even the time they had shared was lost?_ He thought anxiously. Well he didn’t suppose he would be aware of that.

“Why didn’t you give me some more clues?” He asked her. Of course she would not answer he was on his own. “What would you do?” He asked her shade but the words had barely left his lips before he knew the answer. Hermione would have gone to the library. She would have researched and planned, scoured every tome she could find until she knew every nuisance of time turner magic. He dragged his aching bones out of his chair and headed to the library, mentally preparing himself for the exhaustion to come.

There were so many questions to answer. _If he went back would he still be an old man? What would happen to this time line? Would he still remember it all_? He needed to know he needed to plan and time was pressing. Though wizards had great longevity, Draco was 103 now, he did not have forever.

The answers were easier to come by than he expected. Once he had established that he would remain the same age many of the other answers fell into place. He would have to persuade his younger self to act but that in and off itself posed a problem. It was not wise to interact with oneself. So now he had two problems; how to force another version of himself into actions without actually meeting that younger self and which moment did he need to go back to in order to advice that younger self? Merlin he wished she were here. She would have loved this, pouring over dusty old tomes to solve a problem. There was an irony to the fact that it was Draco who had been left behind in the library. Still he vowed he would not let her down not this time. He could not believe that she had still wanted to be with him. He had been a fool but he would not be a fool now. He would take that second chance. Hermione had seen that there was a route to their happiness. There was a moment that he could put it all right and he suspected, if he knew Hermione at all, it would not just be their own happiness. Perhaps their was a greater good to consider after all.

Draco worked feverishly. Pinkie fussed, reminded him to sleep, reminded him to eat. Within two days he had an answer to his first problem that only left the thorny question of when? Draco began to wrack his brain to catalogue all those moments they had been together and his thoughts, inevitable, took him back to Hogwarts. Back to the day that Weasley shattered his hope. For years he resented the redhead, resented him for his friendship with Potter and then his closeness with Hermione. But he never resented him so much as he did years later when he realised that, out of spite, Weasley had robbed him of months with Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear we will find out the fall out from Hermione and Draco’s day at the beach soon.


	17. Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the earlier timeline!

**Early February 1999**

“We were about to call the DMLE, everyone else returned hours ago.”

“So this was your date. You have been out for the day with this Death Eater. I can see now why you wouldn’t want to tell us.” Ron’s clipped tones echoed across the otherwise deserted common room.

Hermione felt Draco stiffen.

“Oh didn’t you know.” Ron twisted the knife, “you were good enough to be her play thing but you will never be anything but her dirty little secret.”

“Ron,” Hermione yelled, but she didn’t finish as she sensed Draco step away and move towards his room. “Draco,” she called after him but it was too late his door slammed. She knew it would be silenced and warded but she tried anyway.

“Draco,” she begged the silent door, “let me explain it wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ron berated her, as she begged at Draco’s door.

“It’s not true,” she rounded on the redhead. “He is not a dirty secret. I just couldn’t trust _you_!”

She stormed off to her own room leaving Ron vibrating with anger in her wake.

Hermione threw herself on her bed fearful that the damage was done, that any explanation she might give would be too late, she began to cry.

-o0o-

Draco silenced and warded his door. He felt a fool. Why had he ever thought things could be any different? He was just a pity project. She would never be prepared to go public with him.

“Fuck!” He slammed his fist into the wall.

Draco had not had an episode of accidental magic since he was 10 years old but that day he lost control. The bed splintered, shrapnel scattering across the floor. Glass shards, shredded the curtains and bed hangings. Draco knew he was bleeding but he didn’t care. That was how, hours later as the eighth year prepared to go to breakfast, Blaise and Pansy found him.

“What the Fuck Draco?” Blaise asked as he surveyed the devastation.

“Blaise he needs to go to the infirmary.” Pansy interrupted her boyfriend.

The two Slytherins managed to get their friend to Madame Pomfrey but neither of them could get him to speak.

“What happened this time?” Poppy Pomfrey enquired, as she wondered how much more punishment the younger Malfoy was going to take.

Pansy shrugged, Draco still said nothing, Madame Pomfrey sighed.

“Well come on lets get you fixed up again.” The nursed said sighing as she signalled to Draco to sit down.

-o0o-

Hermione was desperate to find Draco. She needed to explain but he hadn’t come out of his room. He hadn’t come to breakfast and he had hadn’t been in their first lesson. During the morning break she returned to their common room. Pounded on his door, tried to break through his wards but she couldn’t get in.

“What did you do to him this time you bitch?”

Hermione had her wand out and a shield in place before she had chance to turn and face her accuser.

“Nothing!” Hermione told the dark haired Slytherin determinedly, “it was a misunderstanding. I tired to explain but he locked himself in his room. I haven’t been able to get through to him.”

Pansy studied her for a moment as if she was deciding whether she should say something. Whatever she decided it seemed she would say nothing. Pansy huffed and turned away.

“He’s suffered enough,” was Parkinson’s parting shot as the taller witch walked off towards her room.

Hermione wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Had Parkinson meant to imply that Hermione was causing Draco to suffer?

-o0o-

Try as she might Hermione found that Draco was determined to avoid her. In the end she took the hint. He didn’t want to be with her in anyway. If she pushed him she knew she would only face humiliation. So she left him alone.

-o0o-

Time passed. Spring morphed into summer soon their time at Hogwarts was almost over and their exams were upon them. Draco had not spoken above a handful of words to her since their day on the beach. It saddened her to think that soon they would go their separate ways and she might never see him again.

Their last examination was their defence against the dark arts practical. Though Hermione had lingered at the back of the room she was at first relieved when she realised they would face a boggart. Remus had shown them how to deal with this creature when he had taught them. Hermione began to relax that was until she realised that her peers, who had lived through a war, were haunted by the mostprofound terrors.

Some how most of the eight years managed to deal with the boggart. Neville face Nagini again but he transformed her into a Gryffindor pennant. Pansy faced Greyback but transformed him into a cute puppy. Before she knew it only Draco and herself were left to face their fears.

Hermione squared her shoulders as she face the boggart and watched as its features rippled. The raven black curls, and black clothing of Bellatrix Lastrange faced her laughing manically, her cursed knife tipped with blood. Behind, if she had been conscious of anything else, Hermione would have heard Draco gasp. His own breath shortening Her blood pounding in her ears.

Hermione determined she would not fail she would not allow the war to rob her of success. She would face this fear, she transfigured Bellatrix into a hippo in a tutu and stepped aside for Draco to take his turn. For a fleeting moment Hermione thought her spell had failed as Bellatrix appeared again but now she was holding her wand. It was the screams, her screams, that clued Hermione to the fact that this was Draco’s fear.

“Riddikulus”

She heard him cast the spell and the boggart transformed into Ron in his Yule Ball dress robes looking, as the redhead had claimed, like his great aunt Jesse.

“Well done everyone.” The examiner congratulated them all but Hermione didn’t hear she was transfixed by Draco.

“I don’t want to talk about it Granger,” he snapped as he hastened to leave the room.

Unbidden Pansy’s words returned to her, that she was ‘not the only one tortured that day.’

“Malfoy wait,” she called as she went after him.

-o0o-

Draco’s heart was pounding as he raced through the corridors of Hogwarts’ in utter humiliation. Whilst logically he knew that what the boggart had shown him meant little to most of his peers Hermione knew, she understood. He felt like his inner most secret had been torn from him. He felt raw, exposed, why else would that be his greatest fear if he didn’t care?

-o0o-

Hermione raced after him. She had had enough of his avoidance. She wanted to explain herself. She couldn’t believe that his fear was so apparently selfless.

“Draco,” she called as she caught sight of his blond head as he turned a corner. If he had heard her he didn’t wait. She broke into a full out sprint now. The corridors were relatively empty it was a warm day, most of the school was outside. When she finally caught him they were alone.

“Draco, please wait.” She begged. Finally he stilled but he didn’t turn. “I’ve tried to speak to you.” She told him, “I’ve tried to tell you that you were never my dirty secret. I didn’t intend to hide you it was Ron I didn’t trust.”

He didn’t say anything. His shoulders were tense as if he was fighting for control.

“Well I just wanted you to know that you mean more than that.” She said defeated before she gave up and turned to walk away.

-o0o-

Draco was almost vibrating with tension. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to tell her to wait to come back. He wanted to hold her again but he was afraid. He couldn’t take the disappointment again. He couldn’t believe that her friends wouldn’t talk her out of any relationship with him and if she changed her mind he couldn’t take it. It would break him. So he retreated, hope shattered, because he could not conceive of any way this world they lived in would allow the Golden Girl and a Death Eater to be together.

Still he was determined to remember her. The girl with spindrift at her heels. He wanted to capture that memory before time and distance stripped form his view.


	18. Outstanding in Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter because it was the most logical place to break it up.

It was their last day. Draco looked forward to it with both longing and dread. He longed for it to be over so he could withdraw to a peaceful life where he was not a pariah, where he was not a cancer in everyone’s midst but he also dreaded it. He dreaded the thought that he would not see her again. She would enter society, the Golden Girl feted by everyone, celebrated for her brains and beauty. If he was lucky he would see her at a distance but realistically he expected to only see her picture in the press.

Still Draco determined he would speak to her one last time. He had something he wanted to give to her.

He was not envious as he watched her receive her accolades. She had achieved an outstanding in everything and she was roundly applauded and congratulated. Draco had also achieved outstanding in DADA and arithmancy. His achievements were acknowledge with muted applause. He considered himself fortunate that the audience had not heckled and hissed.

When all the awards were given the crowd was left to mingle. Draco watched as Hermione was cornered by Slughorn. That was when he saw his opportunity to get her alone. Draco knew she would be eager to get away from the rotund sycophant.

“Professor I know you won’t mind if I steal Granger from you for a moment.” He approached, using all his social skill to ensure the Head of Slytherin couldn’t say ‘no.’

“Granger,” he said respectfully, “I just wanted to...” he swallowed suddenly finding it difficult to find the words though he had rehearsed what he would say. He took a breath and started again. “I wanted to say goodbye and good luck. I know you will set the Wizarding World on fire. Also I wanted to give you this.” Draco held out a small square box.

Hermione felt choked. For a moment she wanted to tell him it didn’t need to be goodbye but she didn’t think he would welcome that.

“What is it? She asked instead.”

“Open it.” He encouraged though he had not intended to be there when she did he desperately wanted to see her reaction.

Hermione swallowed down a sob as she opened the carefully wrapped box and took out the snow globe. He didn’t need to tell her who or what it represented she knew. The slivers of tears that had welled in her eyes bust forth. Trailing tracks down her face.

“It’s beautiful Draco. I will treasure it always,” she told him hoping that he read the sub-text. That she treasured the memory it represented.

Emboldened by her words Draco took a chance.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he blurted.

“I’m sorry I can’t.” She watched as he immediately stiffened, so she quickly added, “I have already accepted an invite to a celebration dinner at the Burrows but I could meet you afterwards for a drink...if you would like that?”

“Where could I take you that they would allow me in?”He said despondently.

Hermione knew she couldn’t leave it like this. She just couldn’t.

“Meet me at the gates at 9pm. I know a place.” She offered, he looked uncertain. “I promise you no one will despise you there.” She thought he would refuse but he surprised her.

“9pm at the gates.” He nodded a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Hermione!” Ginny called from behind her, “are you ready we’re leaving.”

“Coming,” she acknowledged, but there was something she was determined to do before she left. Boldly, she rose up on her toes and kissed him there in front of all her friends and their families. “You are more than a dirty secret.” She reminded him as she left to join her friends.

“Hermione! What was that?” He heard the Weaslette immediately admonish.

“A Kiss,” Hermione told the youngest Weasley, a hint of defiance in her tone. Draco watched as the redhead gave him an apprising look as if she was uncertain whether she ought to approve or not.

Draco smirked.


	19. Recollections of Most Painful Days of my Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco reflects on his interactions with Hermione post Hogwarts.

**Many years later...**

After their last day at Hogwarts, Draco recollected, it was many years before they had a private conversation again. Though they had parted on good terms, after a wonderful evening together, they moved in different worlds. Hermione began her career at the ministry. By the time she was 25 she had made Undersecretary of State for the Welfare of Magical Creatures.

Draco followed her career with interest. Part of him had expected her to marry Weasley straight after Hogwarts and raise enough red headed sprogs to make up a quidditch team but perhaps she had been as good as her word. Perhaps she really didn’t love the Weasel. Reluctantly Draco grew to accept that they would never have a relationship together. She was on her way to being Minister of Magic and he wouldn’t ruin it for her.

As Draco approached his 25th birthday he knew he was reaching an important rite of passage. If he wanted to inherit he needed to marry before the end of his 26th year. There was only one woman he wanted to marry, but that was impossible. In the end he allowed his mother to chose his bride for him and he resigned himself to the fact that this would be his lot in life. If he was lucky he would find his wife pleasant enough and they would become companionable. At the time he had thought he would be lucky if anyone wanted to marry him at all, but then he had supposed there was never any shortage of gold diggers.

In the end he had been very lucky. Whilst Astoria had not loved him, at least not in the way he would have wanted, she cared for him. Astoria was not a gold digger, she had helped him recover from his post war trauma. She was a good woman and when she had died, following complications with child birth, he had been genuinely devastated by her loss.

By the time he had emerged from the stupor of his mourning Hermione had wed.

-o0o-

It was the night before Rose and Scorpius’ wedding before he had found out why Hermione had married Weasley in the end. It was not what he had supposed.

The wedding of Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy took place on ‘neutral ground.’ The young couple had decided to break with both family traditions and to marry in Venice. The wedding party were all staying at the hotel Danielli. A renowned hotel that offered discretion for wizarding clients. It was late and Draco couldn’t sleep so he rose to step out onto his balcony to take in the breeze from across the lagoon. The view was beautiful, the moon kissed the waters of the lagoon. Draco sighed at how romantic it was and how it saddened him he had no one to share it with.

“It’s very romantic isn’t it?”

Her voice whispered through the silence. He wondered at first if she was a phantom, if his longing had conjured her, but he quickly realised she was real. The hotel had placed the parents of the bride and groom in suites next door to each other.

Draco had turned his head to look at her. What he saw made him recall all those feelings he had had for her years before and he wonder if you could die from longing. She was swathed in a green satin wrap edged in the most delicate of black lace. A hint of the chemise below visible at her chest. Draco had swallowed deeply. Merlin she was still beautiful. Her hair was brushed out into gentle curls at her back and as the breeze pressed the silk against her Draco could see how beautiful her body was even after baring two children.

“Join me?” Draco asked, raising the glass of amber liquid more in hope than expectation.

“Why not?” She responded and before he could recover from his surprise she had apparated across the gap to his balcony.

“Won’t Weasley mind?”

“He sleeps like a bear in hibernation,” she laughed lightly, “and besides what he doesn’t know...” she trailed off as she cast a muffalato.

They drank in companionable silence, both lost in thought as they enjoyed the burn of the fire whiskey as it slipped smoothly down their throats. It was Hermione who broke the silence.

“I was sorry to hear about Astoria,”

He was silent for a moment.

“She was a wonderful wife, a wonderful mother. I miss her. Especially now with our son about to wed.”

“I’m sorry Draco you deserved to be happy,”

Draco just huffed.

“So are you looking forward to tomorrow?” He asked clearly wanting to change the subject.

“I think I might cry. They make a beautiful couple don’t they.”

“You know he looks like me. So of course...” Draco teased but Hermione knew it was his brand of self deprecating humour.

“Yes the father of the groom will look handsome too,” she grinned at him.

“And the mother of the bride will be beautiful as always.”

He watched as Hermione blushed at his compliment. Her eyes shifting to some far of memory. _She has not forgotten then_ , Draco mused. _She remembers that they had meant something to one another once._

“I have to admit that I am a little jealous.”He confessed, ready to back peddle if she took offence.

She was very quiet, very still.

“I never meant to marry him you know. He was not the man I wanted, though I would never tell him that. Some months after the man I loved married someone else I got terribly drunk and I sought Ron’s comfort. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was facing the prospect of being a single mother. The Wizarding World is very conservative. I had ambitions to get to the top. When Ron offered to do the right thing. Well...it seemed the obvious course to take.”

“Do you regret it?”

“ Not wholly. I have two beautiful children but there have been moments...of regret.”

He knew she couldn’t say it. That neither of them dare go there but he understood the silent subtext.

“I’m jealous too,” she confirmed, returning to the original conversational thread.

_Had that been the moment_? Draco later wondered. _Could they have moved on from there? Or was that moment too late?_

It had been both joyful and painful to watch his son marry Rose Weasley. She was so like her mother, excepting the red hair. He was drowned by the crushing weight of what might have been as he watched his son and her daughter take their vows but it was not as crushing as the day that Hermione herself had wed.

-o0o-

“You should go Draco. They are influential people. It is the society event of the summer. It would do you well to be seen there for the world to know you were invited. That they think well enough of you to have you there.” Astoria suggested days before her death.

Draco knew he couldn’t go. Astoria had been right in everything she had said but he couldn’t watch Hermione take her vows to another man.

“I don’t want to go without you Tori and you are still not well.”

How he had despised himself for that comment. His wife was dying and he used that as an excuse to avoid watching the woman he loved marry another man. He had known that Astoria would not recover, would not live long enough to go with him. He had been a sick bastard even then.

-o0o-

He didn’t go. He sat in his study with the door firmly closed. The cream embossed invitation in front of him. A firewhiskey in hand and he watched the time tick away. Towards 11am when the ceremony was due to begin.

At 10.45 there was a tapping on the window. A small barn owl hopped onto his desk as he opened the window. Dropped its message and flew away.

A single word, in a familiar hand, screamed at him.

‘ _Draco_ ’

‘Draco forget me, Draco I’m sorry, Draco it was never possible...’ all the apologies he imagined her letter had contained came back to him.

He hadn’t wanted to open it and he sat as time moved forward. Each tick of the clock fracturing his heart. She will be at the altar now. He imagined. She will take her vows now. Weasley will kiss his bride now. It’s too late now. With that last thought Draco had broken down. It had been hours later when his house-elf had found him. Catatonic with grief not for the loss of his wife but for the loss of his love.

Astoria had known. She had known she did not have all of his heart but she forgave him because he did not have all of hers. Astoria had been desperately in love with Blaise. How many hearts had their match broken? Could Hermione’s plan put that right too? He would want to see Astoria happy and safe if he could. And Blaise, his friend had become distant and then he left Britain. Draco was sure it was because his friend was in love with his wife. What a tangled web of misery all their lives had become. Draco wasn’t even sure that Weasley had been happy.

-o0o-

Draco recalled decades ago how Weasley had looked one of the last times he had seen him. They were all well into their fifth decade. Most of them wore their age well, himself included, but Weasley looked worn beyond his years. He had looked like an old man well in his cups as the Potters had dragged him away before he caused his wife, the new Minister of Magic, too much embarrassment.

“Look at her,” the man hissed as he passed Draco, “she never loved me.”

Draco’s younger self would have been amused but at that moment he had pitied the man. It was apparent that Weasley felt himself emasculated. He couldn’t say if Hermione had loved her husband. A wickeder part of him hoped that she had not. It was clear they were not well matched, Hermione out shone her husband and Ron Weasley knew that and felt lesser for it.

-o0o-

When Weasley had died he had thought to go and console her. He had attended the funeral, more out of respect for the widow than for the deceased. Even in great age he had thought her beautiful. She stood stoically at the grave side. Rose and his own son there in support. He had offered his condolences, joining the line of mourners as they passed the grieving widow.

He said his piece, public platitudes that offered nothing of how he truly felt or what he truly wanted to tell her. She thanked him, what more could she have said? What more could he have done? Even now he wasn’t sure. Had any of them ever been truly happy? This should not have been the legacy of war.

He had wondered then if they could steal a few years for them to be together before death cheated them of any chance, but he had waited out of respect. Respect for a man who he had never respected in life. Was it stupid of him?

“I’m not sure I ever had a choice, I’m not sure I could ever have done anything differently,” he told her ghost, “I never believed I truly deserved you, never believed we could be together, never believed they would let us. I know what you would say. It didn’t matter what other people thought, perhaps you were right, perhaps I should have been braver but I couldn’t see you suffer. I couldn’t watch them all turn against you. Are you strong enough? Are we both strong enough if I come back for you now?”

Doubt engulfed him. He had always, since the events of the war, doubted his own worth. If it had not he would not have let her get away from him. Exhausted, no nearer to knowing either what he should do or where he should do it, Draco took Pinkie’s advice and finally went to bed.


	20. Indecision

Draco slept fitfully, his dreams tormented by the feelings of longing and despair that had haunted his youth. As he sipped his morning teas he slipped back into recollection, back to another pivotal moment dogged by indecision...

-o0o-

It had been the evening of his graduation from Hogwarts. For a long time that afternoon Draco wondered if he should show. Hermione had invited him for drinks but he knew it would be a disaster if they were seen anywhere together in public. Then he reminded himself that there was one thing he wanted from Hermione. Whilst he had no guarantee she would give him what he wanted he wouldn’t know if he never saw her again.

Draco dressed with care. Choosing a light linen suit that he hoped would fit anywhere she might chose to take him. Punctually, at 8.58pm he stood before the gates of Hogwarts. His heart beat hammering in his ears, wondering if he had made the right choice. As he thought to steady himself a pop of apparition alerted him to her arrival.

He was speechless, she was stunning. She had changed from her graduation robes into a summer dress, in a fine delicate floral silk. It was so reminiscent of the dress she had warn on the beach that day, he wondered if it was deliberate.

“You look stunning,” he told her breathlessly before his brain had time to consider a subtle response.

“Thank you,” she responded before adding, “you look very handsome. Are you ready to show the world that a Golden Girl and a former Death Eater can be together?”

He wondered in what sense she meant they would be together. More pertinently he wondered where she was taking them. Was she about to expose their ‘relationship’ to the whole Wizarding World. She was a brave Gryffindor after all.

His thoughts must have shown on his face. She smiled at him gently.

“Don’t worry Draco, trust me no one will care.”

Draco swallowed his nerves but he knew if he had any hope of ever being with her he had to take the risk now.

Hermione held out her arm an indicating he should take it.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise Draco, trust me it will be fine.”

He had no sooner hooked his arm around hers than he felt that familiar tug behind his belly button as she side along apparated him away.

They landed in a secluded spot what appeared to be a park.

“Where are we?” He questioned now more curious than nervous.

“Grimmauld Place, we can walk from here.”

“You’re taking me into muggle London?”

“Scared Malfoy?” She asked lightly teasing.

“Yes!” He told her with surprising bluntness.

Hermione looked at him with concern.

“I have very little experience of the muggle world,” he clarified.

“Your safe with me, I won’t let the big bad muggles hurt you,”

She held out her hand to him and he accepted it with a huff.

A few hundred yards later they entered a muggle bar.

“Harry and I used to come here sometimes.” She told him as they approached the bar.

“What’ll it be,” the girl behind the bar asked.

Draco suddenly paled, it was not just that he didn’t know what to order he realised he had no muggle money.

Recognising his sudden panic Hermione ordered for him.

“I’ll have a glass of the cote du Rhône and he’ll have a single malt whiskey.”

As the girl turned to pour their order Draco hissed;

“I can’t pay Granger, I don’t have any money.”

“Then it’s a good job it was I who invited you for a drink!”

Draco looked rebellious.

“It’s okay you can pay me back if you must.” She offered by way of placating his pride. Draco huffed again.

Their drinks served the pair made their way to a quiet corner. As Draco looked around he realised that this establishment was not too dissimilar to a wizardingone. Granted the muggles carried their drinks rather than levitated them to their tables and there was no mistaking, from clientele’s attire, that they were in a muggle bar but the whiskey smelt of smoke and peat.

Tentatively, Draco took a sip. He was pleasantly surprised the amber liquid was not unlikea good fire-whiskey. He thought he could get used to it.

“Okay?” Hermione enquired, eager to know his thoughts.

“Not bad.”

She smiled.

“So what are your plans now you have graduated.” Hermione began trying to initiate conversation. Draco’s face turned solemn.

“ My plans are somewhat different to my dreams.” He sighed

“So, what are your dreams?”

“ I dreamed of making the world a better place. Using my wealth to fund research. Find potions to cure all ills, maybe doing some of the research myself. I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps doing nefarious deals with even more nefarious folk. But my immediate dream is to make love to a beautiful woman.”

“Let no one steal your dreams Draco,” she told him.

Draco swallowed deeply, she couldn’t possibly mean...

“Drink up,” she encouraged, “I have somewhere else I wanted to show you.”

Draco knocked the whiskey back and stood taking her arm gently as they moved towards the exit. They walked the pavement in companionable silence until they found an alley that would shield them from prying muggle eyes.

“Ready?” Hermione requested his arm again, then with a quick snap they disappeared.

As Draco gathered his wits he found himself in a beautiful walled garden. Somewhere hidden from view was the tranquil sound of running water. The air hung heavy with night fragrant plants. In the centre of the enchanted garden was a seating area lite by multiple electric lights that hung from the branches that shaded the area from above. The effect was enchanting, though Draco recognised there was no magic involved it was none the less magical.

“Where are we?” Draco asked still a little awed by the muggle ingenuity.

“My parents’ house.”

“What?” Draco questioned in alarm that she had brought him to meet her parents.

“Don’t worry Draco. They are not here, they are never here in fact I was considering selling the place.” She sighed, “but it holds so many memories I’m not willing to let it go yet.”

Draco hardly dare ask but he needed to understand.

“What happened to your parents Hermione?”

“They moved to Australia.”

Draco let out a breath he had not known he was holding. He had thought for a moment they were dead. Now he thought about it they had not been at the graduation. His internal reverie was interrupted when he realised that she was crying. He didn’t speak, not knowing if she would welcome his enquiry.

“I oblivated them,” she told him unprompted.

Draco was not good at offering comfort, he had so little experience of it, but he knew she was hurting. He stepped closer and as they stood in that beautifully garden he drew her to him. Wrapping her tightly in an embrace.

-o0o-

Hermione didn’t know why she had brought him here. It was stupid, she always got sentimental. She had not expected him to comfort her but as he wrapped her in his arms she felt blanketed in love. How could he, of all people, do that to her? All the gentle souls she had met and yet it was this pained and tormented young man who felt like home. He was warm and his cologne was like a drug. Suddenly she wanted to taste him. She was salivating with the desire to feel his flesh on her tongue. She let escape a small moan of delight. Like she had just been served a delicious dessert and she knew he shuddered at the sound of it.

This might be the last time she ever saw him. She wanted to take this drug that had been forbidden her. Here in her parents’ home she wanted to strip him bare and explore every millimetre of that exquisite, lithe frame. She blushed as visions of him laid out naked for her swam within her brain. So Hermione did something she had never contemplated doing before in her life she began the act of seduction.

-o0o-

Draco’s breath caught as he felt her soft lips press to his chest at his open collar. For a nanosecond he wondered if it was accidental but he soon understood it was not as small fingers delicately released the buttons on his shirtfront. He was dreaming, the muggle whiskey had brought on a hallucination.Hermione Granger would never seduce him, this couldn’t be real.

If this was a dream it was exquisite. She ran her hands over his pectorals following the fine dusting of golden blond hair down his torso. Draco felt light headed. He couldn’t breathe, he didn’t dare, he was sure if he did the bubble of this fantasy would shatter. He gasped as her lips hit his abs.

“Granger.” He groaned, low and guttural as he grasped the sides of her face and pulled her back up so he could look her in the eye.“What are you doing?”

“Seducing you.” She told him with the confidence of a Siren, “do you not want me to?”

“Sweet Circe, you have no idea how much I want you to do this.”

She raised an index finger to his lips, _shh_! She told him silently. It was a enough to tell him to enjoy it, to live in the moment come what may.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I wonder what is up next!


	21. No Words of Regret

Hermione’s skin felt scorched. The embers she had ignited, when she had first caressed his skin, had turned into an inferno. He had surrendered at her touch and they tore at each other tugging away layers of clothing that stopped them from being skin to skin. Hermione burned to be closer. Her want raged through her waiting for the oxygen of his caress. As Draco’s lips drowned at her throat a fire began to smoulder between her thighs. She knew what she wanted, even if it was only once.

He was shirtless now and she marvelled as she ran her fingers across the dips and troughs of his torso. Hermione was salivating as her fingertips ran through the fine golden hair that trailed towards his groin. He shuddered. She knew he was aroused now she wanted him naked. Laid out across her bed where she could feast on him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the house. Sod the drinks, she wanted to drink him in.

He was silent as she led him up the stairs.

“What are you thinking?”

“This is a dream and I don’t ever want to wake up.”

He sounded so sincere it made his words so romantic.

Hermione wasted no time, she pushed him on to the bed and as he sat there she drew herself in between his thighs. He groaned as she pressed closer.

-o0o-

Draco could not believe this was happening to him. It seemed like the most beautiful of dreams. There was no one to interfere and he wanted to live in the moment, in the fantasy bubble she had created for them. He wanted to savour every touch, ever kiss because he dare not hope he would ever have the opportunity to be with her again. He could not believe fate would allow him that. 

He buried his face against her firm creamy stomach and breathed in that scent that was so uniquely her. Merlin he wanted to be inside her but more he wanted to make this last, make it memorable in case the memory was all his future would afford him. There was no indecision now and Draco determined that, though he might not get to keep her, he would ruin her for anyone else. It was selfish but he wanted her to think of him no matter who came after. He wanted no other man to ever compare, he wanted her to fantasise she was making love to him even if it was another man she sought to sate her desire. He knew he was a selfish bastard but he wanted her to see his face every time she came. Even if it was only in her imagination.

“Draco,” she gasped as his tongue trailed down her centre towards her throbbing core.

“I am going to make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse,” he promise, “make you come so hard you will forget your own name.”

-o0o-

Hermione gasped as his lips hit her core, she could feel his warm breath through the thin lace of her knickers.

“Please Draco,” she pleaded pulling at his shoulders to bring him closer. All that stood between them now were fine swatches of lace and silk and Hermione could bear no more teasing. She pushed his shoulders pinning him to the crisp cotton sheets, straddling him as he gasped. “No more teasing,” she vowed as her grinding hips belied her words. She ran her fingers around the waist of his boxers, softly slipping her hand beneath, caressing his manhood that now waited taut and eager. She pushed the silk shorts down freeing him and her insides clenched as he was revealed in all his masculine glory.

-o0o-

Draco was prepared to play along for awhile, to allow her dominance but ultimately he wanted to screw her into the mattress. As he lay on his back, luxuriating in her touching, teasing grip he couldn’t help but feast on the sight. She was glorious. Hair wild like a mane around her, full breasts round and flush with arousal, nipples taut. He had to taste them, skilfully he flip them and before she could protest he took one of the dusky tips into his mouth. Draco thought he could have shattered at that. Just to be able to lave her nipples with his tongue and when she moaned his name...for a moment he was lost to all other sensation but the pleasure of that sound as it rolled across his ear.

There was to be no more foreplay. Her actions made that clear she was running his length through her slick folds. A more than blatant invite.

“Now Draco,” she demanded, he could not refuse her. He pushed forward and found himself engulfed by the bliss of her warmth. Words were beyond him, his groan was primal as he began to establish a rhythm. Hermione moved with him lost in her own pleasure, pushing him to drive deeper, to give more and he did. He could refuse her nothing and if he died from the effort he would have her scream his name.

She howled her pleasure, rippling and pulsing around him as she came;

“Draco!”

It was all he had ever wanted to hear, his name on her lips as she cried out in pleasure and it was all that he needed to finish. Utter, unbelievable, bliss shattered him.

-o0o-

Their first sexual encounter had been mind blowing but it was what happened in the early hours of the morning, just before dawn that had stollen Hermione’s heart. He had woken her with gentle kisses. Made love to her, not with reckless passion but with sweet tenderness. Hermione knew then that she was lost. She couldn’t fathom where this gentle man, who worshipped her before dawn, had come from but she knew that no one could ever make love to her like that again. Every touch had been a tender adoration, every kiss a whisper of a caress. Like that first kiss beneath the mistletoe, as he filled her up and stretched her out, it was the most exquisite of moments. A combination of elements she knew would never come together again. Longing and loss, love and lust, lightness and lingering sadness. As if none of it was real. As if the stars had aligned once and would never realign again.

When she awoke again he was dressing. He smiled at her stoically, took her hand and kissed her palm gently. There were no words of regret, no words of goodbye just a sadness in his eyes that told her she would not see him again. She wanted to stop him, wanted to beg him to stay but before her thoughts found voice it was too late he was gone.

“Come back to me,” she whispered to the dust motes that caught in the sunlight but they couldn’t help her, they couldn’t bring him back, and a coldness settled on her despite the brightness of the day.


	22. Maelstrom

Many years later...

He wondered if it was his face she thought of as Weasley got her off. He wonder if he should have stayed that day rather than leave her alone to face the maelstrom that followed. If she had asked it of him he would have stayed, forever if she would have had him. Though he could trace no sign of regret on her face she had said nothing. He wondered with hindsight, should he have asked her if she wanted him to stay? Had he really given her chance to speak? Whilst he thought he had a voice at the back of his mind chastised him, _you didn’t wait and you didn’t ask because you were afraid. You would rather face a lifetime without her than a moments rejection. Fool!_

He could not say now if it had been the right thing to do. He couldn’t say if his noble intentions, not to taint her, had been merely cowardice. So, when the shite storm erupted around them he had taken it as affirmation, that they were not meant to be and one night was all they would ever share.

Now he wondered was that the moment he should return to? Should he return to face the vitriol of the press, her friends, his family? Stand beside her and defy the world’s exceptations.

He recalled now his mother’s face as he returned home, that first day after hisgraduation.

“This is how you repay me?” She had stormed, “after all I did you keep you safe. Do family and tradition mean nothing to you?”

Narcissa Malfoy had laid into him like a storm front. Taken unawares and sleep deprived he had simply gapped at her until she threw the ‘Daily Prophet,’ in his face.

Draco, scrambled gracelessly to catch it. The cover screamed back at him; ‘betrayal’. There on the front was a photograph of him giving his gift to Hermione and her kiss goodbye but it was not this that was so damning it was the follow up photos. Someone had spotted them in muggle London. Their secret, intimate drink, the moment she took his arm and whisked him away not a secret anymore.

He hated himself even before he spoke the words;

“It was an itch I needed to scratch mother.” He said dismissively. Whether she had believed him or not he was unsure but his mother nonetheless reminded him of his expectations. As if he had needed to be reminded that he was the scion of two noble houses.

-o0o-

Draco had not dared to contact her. They needed deniability if he was not to ruin her reputation. ‘The kiss was just a goodbye and a thank you to him for saving her life’, he had told the press as he attempted damage control. ‘They were not dating, they were not intimate.’ Merlin he had hated himself, every word felt like poison. What had she thought as she read his words? He had thought she must have felt like he had used her.

Out of guilt he persuaded himself that it was a pity fuck that she wouldn’t be upset, that it had not meant anything to her. She had felt sorry for him and, whilst she could not have denied she was attracted to him physically, it was never anything more than that. He convinced himself that it was Hermione that had ‘an itch’ she needed to scratch. With hindsight he knew he was wrong and he wondered if she had waited to hear from him, if he had made her sad or made her cry when she had not.

Was that the moment? Should he go back and bring them together again?

Draco had wondered if he would ever met her again but it had only been days. He was shopping in Diagon Alley with his mother. Granger was leaving Flourish and Blotts he froze as he found himself face to face with the beautiful brunette. The silence was so awkward it was left tohis mother to intervene.

“Miss Granger, how nice to see you. Draco tell’s me that you are one of Flourish and Blotts best customers. A great reader.”

“Yes, I never had a book out of my hand at Hogwarts.”

“Well please don’t let us keep you,” Narcissa concluded bringing the encounter to a close.

“Oh! Sorry... yes...” Hermione had stumbled like an incoherent fool as she began to walk away. “Good day, Mrs Malfoy, Draco,”

Draco watched her leave as if she was being lead to the guillotine.

“Draco!” His mother hissed, “close your mouth you are making a fool of yourself over a muggleborn girl. If the press catch you again...”

Draco recalled snapping his jaw shut. But he had not been able to tear his eyes away. He had watched her until she was out of sight, unmoving as if he had been hit by a sudden paralysis. His mother had known, she had watched him all his life and she knew he was enamoured of the former Gryffindor war heroine. On her deathbed Narcissa had begged his forgiveness. She had recognised, too late, that Draco was miserable because the woman he loved had married another man. Draco had not accepted her apology. He had told her that if he had been brave enough he would have been with her anyway, that he had no one to blame but himself. He had hoped it had eased his mother’s mind.

-o0o-

It had been a week since Draco had received her bequest and he wasn’t sure he was any nearer knowing the point he needed to return to or how he would persuade his younger self to be brave.

He looked at Hermione’s letter again. His younger self needed to read that letter but how did he convince or persuade him to do it. Instinctively Draco knew he needed to talk to his younger self personally but he needed to understand that would happen if he did. _Why was it not a good idea to meet oneself in the past?_ With a deep sigh Draco realised he needed to do more research.

It took Draco three days but finally he found what he needed to know. Cronus’ paradox stated that: if a wizard or witch met themselves in an earlier time line they would cease to exist in their own, as they would have changed their destiny. Draco wanted to change his destiny. He was 103 years old and he didn’t care if he ceased to exist. He needed to go back and force that younger self to read her letter. Now he only needed to determine when. If he was to be successful he needed a precise time and place. If he were successful they could have a lifetime together, live, love, laugh. He could dance with her again as he had done once before.

Many years earlier...


	23. Viennese Waltz.

Draco recalled that many years earlier he had danced with the woman he loved. He had only ever danced with her once, it was an encounter of no more than a handful of minutes, but it was beautiful and he had never forgot it.

It was one of the bravest things he had ever done and it was a lesson in the rewards that bravery could bring.

It took many years of philanthropic endeavour before Draco was an acceptable guest in polite society. It was the first time he had been brave enough to show his face in public for many years. It was the anniversary ball and in a moment of madness he had accepted his invitation. It was a personal request by the new Minister of Magic herself that, like a fool, had forced his hand. He recalled he had almost vomited before he apparated into the event. He knew he wouldn’t be alone. Rose and Scorpius would be there too. The young couple were blazing a trail through wizarding society. They were the darlings of the media. The power couple of the day and Draco finally convinced himself that, as Scorpius’ father and after his years of charitable work, he might show his face however briefly.

Hermione had greeted him warmly, like an old beloved friend and in so doing she had set the tone. For the first time since before he had left school, Draco felt he was not a pariah. Guests were either cautious or cordial. No one sneered, no one hissed. His old friend Blaise had even patted him soundly on the back and warmly pronounced:

‘It’s about time you came out of your hole. You can’t mourn her forever. Make sure you have some fun!’

He hadn’t realised that was what they all thought, that he become a recluse because he had lost Astoria. He had only been there perhaps thirty minutes when he became aware of a sudden tension in the room. Weasley was pissed, Ginny and Harry Potter were doing their best to wrangle the redhead out of the room, Scorpius had disappeared to find some sobriety potion but it was too late. The ball was due to begin. It was traditional for the Minister to open the dancing but she had no partner. Someone needed to step up and ask her to dance.

“Mr Malfoy, please,” Rose urged.

“I can’t,” he said in utter panic.

“You are my father-in-law,” Rose pushed, “there will be no impropriety if my father has been taken ill.”

“Scorpius can...” Draco trailed off as he realised his son had disappeared.

“Please,” Rose coaxed.

Draco loved his daughter-in-law dearly, and in truth he might have done it anyway because Rose had asked but Hermione was still breathtakingly beautiful. She was dressed with an elegance that reminded him of his own mother, modestly with a cut that flattered her figure in a colour that flattered her tone.

He had taken a fortifying breath, knowing he was about to expose himself to public view and make himself the centre of attention. He might have relished that once but it was a long time since he had craved any attention.

He drew himself up to his full height, pushed his shoulders back and straightened his spin. Thus with perfect posture he stepped across the empty dance floor.

“May I have the honour, Minister?” He asked holding out his right hand as he took an elegant bow.

She smiled and took his hand allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. The band struck up and. as the Strauss waltz played and the flash bulbs of the paparazzi cameras exploded like a firework display, Draco led Hermione across the dance floor.

“Thank you Draco,” she whispered as the dance floor finally flooded with other couples. She lifted her eyes to him finally and for a moment they were transported back on to that beach on the North Coast of Wales the rest of the world melting away as they were caught in the moment like flies in amber.

They might have forgotten themselves at that moment and caused the scandal of the century had it not been for Scorpius.

“Excuse me father, if I may have the pleasure of my mother-in-laws company for the next dance?”

“Of course and if you wouldn’t mind I think I will dance with my daughter in law.”

So they had changed partners, reminding the Wizarding World of the familiar link and that, of course, Draco Malfoy was someone that the Minister would be acquainted with.

Draco had often wondered if Scorpius knew. He had been very close to his son. Raised him almost singlehandedly and they understood each other intrinsically. When he though back to that evening he was convinced that Scorpius had intervened to save him from making a fool of himself.

Draco scoffed at the thought. “I was a fool long before then Scorpius my boy,” he said aloud.

-o0o-

Draco had never been able to let thoughts of Hermione go, he remembered years earlier one evening, as he dined with his son and daughter-in-law, how he had drunk a little too much and become maudlin.

“What does your mother think of me Rose? She hated me when we were children, does she still hate me?”

He remembered the significant look that had passed between the young couple.

“Of course not, sir,” she had said smiling at him indulgently, “whatever she might have said she never hated you in fact...”

“Rose, it’s getting late I think we need to get back and see the children before they head back to school tomorrow.”

There was an unspoken subtext that whatever she had intend to say she should not. But Rose had her mother’s heart and she had wanted to give her father-in-law some solace.

“She always speaks of you fondly.” She continued ignoring her husband’s attempt to change the subject. “ I think she does it to irritate my father though I know she means it. She says you were a real prat when you were younger but when you returned in eighth year you were a better man and that is why Scorpius is so wonderful.” She finished sweetly, taking her husbands hand.

Draco had laughed to himself. His son was like putty in Rose’s hands, whatever offence he might have seen in Rose’s actions a moment prior it disappeared as soon as she looked at Scorpius. Draco was sure that Hermione would have been able to do the same with him. He would have forgiven her anything.

He had always assumed that she had never forgiven him. In this too he was mistaken.


	24. A Leap in the Dark

Draco had done all that he could. He was as prepared as he ever would be. He realised belatedly that he only had one exact time and place he could go to. It would require his younger self to be beyond brave. Draco knew she would not reject that younger self and though he knew he would not survive to see the scandal young Hermione and Draco would cause he relished the thought of it. He knew now that she would not care if they had to flee the country as long as they could be together. That younger man would have to take a leap in the dark. Draco would go back to her wedding day. He knew the precise time and date. He knew exactly where the young Draco would be and he would make him open her letter,

‘if you were to stand up and claim me I would go with you.’

‘Stand up and claim me,’ he repeated to himself. “I doubt that younger version of myself will have the guts.” He told her ghost, “you know what a coward I was.”

This would be so bold, so audacious, Draco doubted his younger self could or would do it but he had promised her, so he would try.

Draco took the time turner in his shaking hands. 10.45am he would be in his study, drowning himself in firewhiskey just before her owl arrived. Slowly, exhausted and leaning heavily on his cane Draco made his way to stand outside his own study door. He took one deep breath. Lifted the time turner from where it sat against his heart.

“I’m coming my love.” He murmured softly as he set the devise to spin.

-o0o-

Draco heard the quarter chime from the long case clock down the hall as the disorientating vortex of time passing stilled. Had it not been for the clock he might have believed it had not worked. He had no time to waste, he didn’t even knock. He could not have described the sensation of seeing himself again as he had once been before age had bent and twisted him, before longing had turned to a bitter distain for life.

‘Draco,” he spoke abruptly, “you need to open it.”

“Grandfather?” His younger self questioned.

“No,”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my home?”

“Sit down Draco we do not have time for this. There is something you need to do and you have less than 15 minutes to do it. The woman you love is about to marry another man.”

“You think I am unaware of that?” The younger man sneered.

“What I think you are not aware of is that she does not want to marry him. What I think you are not aware of is that if you don’t open that letter now you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Who are you and how did you...” the younger Draco trailed off as he realised that the family ring on his thumb was still there and it was the same as that worn by the other man.

“Draco,” the older man spoke impatiently, fearful that his time was slipping away, “that’s right, I am who you suppose me to be. She begged me to come back and tell you this. Open the letter, do as she asks, for if you do not you condemn us all to a life of misery.”

The elder man knew that as soon as the seal was broken on the letter his time was up and his time line would fracture. He would never know if his younger self was brave enough or if he would be too late. He had done what he could and he begged that the Gods grant him a second chance.

“You have very little time,” he cautioned.

After a moments hesitation the younger man cracked the seal and began to read.

The older Draco felt himself begin to fracture but he watched as his youthful face read her note.

_Dear Draco,_

_I know I shouldn't be writing this and I know that there is a strong possibility you will never read it. A large part of me thinks I am a fool to hope but I couldn't go through with this without offering you another chance; offering us both a final chance to be together._

_I want you to know that I love you and that even now, at the thirteenth hour, when it seems beyond too late, if you were to stand up and claim me I would go with you. Even though I know my husband to be is a good man and he will always be good to me. I do not love him as I should. He is not the man I truly want. That will always, has always been you._

_If you read this, if you want me still, if you find the courage come back for me before it is too late._

_All my love, always,_

_Hermione._

His 103 year old self knew every line by heart and he recited now so that his last thoughts would be the knowledge that she loved him.

-o0o-

Draco looked up from his desk as he finished the note, hoping to get confirmation of what it meant from his older and perhaps wiser self but as he raised his eyes the older man was fading away.

_Shit_ , he panicked he had 9 minutes to get to the wedding. If he could catch her before she walked down the aisle. Two quick wand movements and he had transfigured his clothes into morning wear and groomed himself. He would have to do.

He plucked the invitation from his desk and rushed towards the fireplace to use the floo. The floo address was the Burrows. He recognised it as the Weasley’s home. _Oh Gods!_ He began to panic, _if the whole Weasley clan was there they would lynch him if they caught him trying to steal the bride._

He dusted off his clothes as he exited the floo. His appearance caused a stir, he doubted anyone expected him to show.

“Malfoy?” Dean Thomas questioned. He was clearly an usher and looked stunned to see the blond. “Are you with the bride or groom?”

“The bride I think,” Draco answered distractedly.

“Can I show you to your seat?” Dean began to lead the way, “this ceremony may be a little different to what you are used to it will be a combination of muggle and magical. The muggle vows will be first but the order of service will guide you through.”

“Yes of course, is the bride here yet?” Draco asked distractedly scanning the crowd.

“Oh no not yet, another muggle tradition I’m afraid the bride apparently arrives last and late after all the guests are seated. She will arrive like the Queen of Sheba...”

Draco paled, he had tuned Thomas out, she wasn’t here he was too late, he would never get to speak to her before she was wed. Draco wanted to vomit, he had come here in hope but the fates despised him. Now he was trapped and would be forced to endure the nightmare of watching the woman he loved, who loved him back, give herself to another man.

Draco crumpled the letter in his left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we end this chapter on a cliffhanger!
> 
> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos to date. Please feel free to continue to comment. I would love to here what you think.


	25. The Declaration

“Malfoy are you alright?” Thomas enquired of the blond who was struggling not to hyperventilate.

He managed to nod. _You have suffered worse and survived,_ he berated himself, yet no matter what he told himself he could not calm himself. His famous control had slipped. He was ready to bolt but music began and he realised the bride’s procession had begun. He wanted so much to look at her as she walked down the aisle but he couldn’t bear to, couldn’t bear to see her assomeone else’s bride. He knew she would be beautiful but he didn’t want to see if it was all for another man.

She must have reached the altar. Everyone had stilled and taken their seats for the ceremony to begin.

_You can get through this_ , he told him self as he balled his hands into fists. He clenched his jaw. He wanted to wipe out all sensation, if he had been struck deaf and blind he would have preferred it to this. He wanted to tune it all out but he couldn’t.

“Hermione and Ronald, before you are joined in matrimony I have to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to make. Marriage, according to the law of this country is the union of two people, voluntarily entered into for life, to the exclusion of all others”.

‘ _Stand up and claim me,_ ’ her words came to him unbidden.

“Now I am going to ask each of you in turn to declare that you know of no lawful reason why you should not be married to each other.”

“Hermione please say the following words after me.”

“I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I ...”

Suddenly Hermione froze, movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, a flash of pale blond. She knew she shouldn’t turn but she had to know.

“Draco,” she gasped.

There in the shockedcongregation stood Draco Malfoy. He had risen to his feet and he was about to do the bravest thing he thought he had ever done. He was too scarred to speak but he raised his right hand towards her, beseeching, as if he was inviting her to dance.

It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. No one moved, she wasn’t going to come he panicked;

“Please Hermione,” he begged.

It was as if his plea had broken an enchantment. Hermione bolted for him and all hell broke loose. Ron pulled his wand, Harry tried to disarm him in case he hit Hermione. The couple fleeing down the aisle had made it to the doors. They needed to get outside beyond the press anti-apparition wards.Draco had no plan for escape. He had not anticipated finding a posse in pursuit. As they broke through the doors the camera flashes exploded. Molly Weasley was screaming hysterically for the photographs to stop the run away couple. But before they could the couple apparated away.

They landed in Draco’s study.

Hermione began to laugh hysterically.

“You came,” she hiccuped, “bloody hell Malfoy you...”

Draco still felt terrified, he couldn’t believe what he had just done and he wasn’t sure now that she had really wanted him to. Until she threw herself into his arms.

“I didn’t really believe you would come,” she said looking up and cupping his face, “you beautiful, brave man.”

Draco wasn’t sure he wasn’t in shock, he couldn’t think straight. There was still a bottle of firewhiskey on his desk. He tipped it and took two huge gulps.

Then laughed.

“I don’t believe I just did that.” A slow smile broke out across his face before he leaned in and kissed her with abandon. Hermione allowed his kisses for a moment but then she pushed him away.

“Are your wards secure?”

He nodded,

“They are going to think you kidnapped me or used an imperius curse.”

Draco’s face fell,

“I’m going to have to fight to keep you aren’t I?”

“Marry me Draco,”

“What?

“Marry me, here now today, make me yours,”

It seemed today was Draco’s day to behave like a reckless Gryffindor.

“Pinkie,” he called, when the elf appeared he gave instructions.

“Find someone to bind a marriage vow, no wait, find my mother.”

“Draco she won’t...”

“She will!” He said firmly clearly beginning to find his equilibrium and smiling at her.

Hermione’s face suddenly fell.

“Draco there is something I need to tell you. You may wish to change your mind.”

Draco thought he might stop breathing.

“Go on,”

Hermione took in a deep breath.

“I was only marrying Ron because I am pregnant with his child. It was a mistake, it was just the once, I was stupidly drunk and lonely and I couldn’t bear that you had married someone else.”

Draco was very still for a very long time. He had a child of his own by a woman he didn’t really love. It would be hypocritical for him to judge. The child would obviously not be his but they could hardly cause anymore scandal.

“Say something Draco,”

“Do you love me?” Draco lifted her head so he could see her eyes.

“More than you can imagine,”

“Then Scorpius will have a playmate.” He said for the first time taking her in. “You look so beautiful.” He pulled her to him and kissed her brow.

“Draco, what is going on? I had a floo call from...ah!” Narcissa stopped herself, “so it is true. Are you both insane?”

“Quite possibly mother. We are going to marry.”

Narcissa pursed her lips as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“I wanted you to act as bonder.”

“You mean to marry now, today?” Narcissa looked at him aghast.

“Yes, we are already dressed for the occasion. It seems a shame to rob Hermione of her wedding day.”

Narcissa was rarely speechless but, as Draco led Hermione towards the garden, she could think of nothing to say.

Just before noon, Draco and Hermione took their wedding vows beneath the rose arbour in the garden of Malfoy Manor. She was the first muggle-born to bear the Malfoy name in recorded history.

Narcissa performed the marriage bond with more good grace than he had expected.

“Lady Malfoy,” Narcissa acknowledged Hermione when the ceremony was complete. Hermione looked confused.

“My mother is the Dowager Lady Malfoy,” Draco explained briefly.

“Of course.”

“Chin up mother, Scorpius can still carry on the pureblood line if he sees fit.”

Narcissa actually huffed.

“I am most displeased with you Draco,” she chastised, “oh! Don’t look at me like that, not with your choice of bride. You are beautiful my dear and he loves you. I know you will make him happy but Merlin what a media storm you will have caused. Not to mention the Weasley boy will likely aveda you on sight.”

Unaccountably, Draco smirked.

“I will speak to Ron.” Hermione offered, “it is the least I can do. I have humiliated him, he will hate me, it will be brutal but it is my place to deal with this. He will need to calm first.”

-o0o-

Draco had thought to consummate the marriage with all due haste but he was not to be allowed that pleasure.


	26. The Runaway Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter. Hope you enjoy and feel free to comment or leave kudos.

Draco couldn’t say he was really surprised when Potter landed on his doorstep in full auror uniform with the back up of a full auror team.

“Must we really do this Potter?” Draco demanded in the condescending manner he had perfected to use with Potter in his youth.

“I have a warrant to remove Hermione Granger from these premises into the legal protection of the Wizengamot.”

Draco looked at the dark haired auror as if he was insane.

“She is not a minor,” Draco responded aghast.

“We have reason to believe that you have performed an unforgivable curse on her and abducted her without her consent.”

Draco lost it. The Lord of Malfoy Manor, renowned for his cool, actual lost it.

“There is only one thing that I have done to Hermione that is unforgivable.” He raged. “ I dared to fall in love with her. I know I am not good enough for her. I know I never will be but that is not and never has been your decision to make. Here,” Draco said, forcefully pushing a crumbled note into Harry’s hand.

It was Hermione’s note.

“It’s authentic you can check the handwriting if you wish. Though the number of times she wrote your essays for you I would be amazed if you didn’t recognise it.”

“Nonetheless,” Harry persisted, “I have a warrant, if you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear.”

“Pinkie,” Draco bellowed. “Please find the mistress of the house and bring her to us.”

“Yes master Draco,”

The elf disappeared and reappeared immediately with Hermione still in her wedding gown.

“Draco what‘s going on?” She asked cautiously.

“Tell her Potter, I dare you!”

Harry blanched slightly but, observing the legal formality, he read his warrant again.

“You are too late!” Hermione announced.

“What do you mean I’m too late?” Harry’s eyes flashed between the pair. As if he was missing something but he wasn’t sure what. Draco, always sharper than his dark haired peer, immediately understood.

“Who did I summon just now Potter?”

Harry looked completely lost as he regurgitated Draco’s words;

‘Find the mistress of the house,’

If he had been calmer Draco would have been amused to watch the slow realisation dawn on Harry’s face.

“That’s right Potter, I believe you are already acquainted with Hermione, Lady Malfoy, my wife.”

Realising his warrant was not valid Harry deflated a little.

“Hermione please come with me so we can sort this mess out.”

“Harry, I love you dearly but I have no intentions of spending my wedding night in the auror’s office.”

Draco smirked, it was something he had not done for a longtime. Harry looked like he might vomit.

“Magnificent isn’t she?” Draco beamed with pride as he pulled his new wife to him and kissed her soundly.

“Harry my dear boy, why don’t you take tea with me at the Dower House,” Narcissa could be heard to intervene. “Come I will share with you what you need to know.”

Harry, too shocked to argue, followed Narcissa away.

Potter didn’t comeback. Whatever Narcissa Malfoy told told him it was enough.

-o0o-

As Potter and his team left, Draco took hold of Hermione’s hand and led her towards the staircase.

“I have dreamt of this for a long time.”

“What have you dreamt Draco?” She whispered

“Making love to the woman I love and calling her my wife.”

Draco led his new wife into a suite of rooms he had never thought he would use. The master suite of Malfoy Manor was a vast collection of interconnecting rooms to give the master and mistress of the house utter privacy. Its blue and white hues elegant and calming.

“How do you like the marriage suite Mrs Malfoy?”

Hermione actually giggled.

“I’m not sure I can take this all in.” She confessed.

“Nor I,” he admitted, “this morning I sat in my study prepared to drown myself in fire-whiskey as the woman I loved married someone else. Now I’m preparing to make love to her myself.”

Draco was completely unabashed by his warning. Hermione could hardly be expecting anything else.

Draco took a deep steadying breath. He had a lifetime to love her now and he would not rush this. Sensing his change in demeanour Hermione stilled before coyly taking a step towards him. Draco reached for her at last, gently pulling her close, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to rest against Hermione’s.

“I can’t believe this moment has come. I have dreamt so many times that you could be mine. Never believing it could ever be true. Is this real? Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming. This is real. I am yours. In truth I always was you just didn’t know it.”

With those words Hermione tenderly reached up to kiss the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed to his jaw. She wanted to show him how much she adored him. Her tragic hero who had bravely proclaimed to the world how much he loved her. Who was brave enough to be vulnerable. Brave enough to leave himself open to rejection and humiliation. Brave enough to stand up and say I do not care what the world thinks, this is what I wanted and I will defy you all to take it. She kissed his throat and felt him swallow as her dexterous fingers slipped the knot of his tie. Slowly, reverently, she unfastened his shirt buttons. Pressing open mouthed kisses to every newly revealed inch of porcelain skin. His scent was intoxicating. She reached his abs, burying her face in his warm firm flesh as she push his shirt off his shoulders.

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” She whispered into his shoulder.

“Hermione...” he gasped taking her face between his hands so he could look into her eyes. He didn’t speak, he couldn’t find the eloquence to voice how he felt about her but he could show her. The kiss he gave her was searing. If Hermione had had any resolve it would have crumbled at his feet. She knew she was lost to him. There would never be anyone else.

Draco knew there would be times, in the years to come, when he would take her against the wall, between the library stacks and from behind across his desk but tonight...tonight he wanted to lay her gently on the bed. She was looking at him in adoration, Draco was fearful he would wake and find it a dream. He knew if this wasn’t real the disappointment would kill him. He had given her his heart entirely. There would never be anyone else for him. He had already known that.

She moaned as he continued to kiss her. The kiss depended and she pulled him closer. If she could have climbed inside him she would have. Draco sucked on her neck and she moaned again, urgently pressing herself to him.

“Draco,” she purred as she hooked her right leg around him pulling him closer still. Rubbing against his already hardened length. Sensing her urgency Draco lifted her in his arms and carried her towards the bed. She was still in her wedding gown. Draco did not have the patience to unlace it. Wandlessly and wordlessly he vanished the offending garment.

Hermione would have told him she was impressed with his skill but Draco was not alone in lacking patience. She had wanted him again for far too long. She longed to feel him move inside her. Eagerly, her hands made their way to his belt determined to free him from the confines of his pants. Draco all but growled as she freed him but he batted her hand away.

“I won’t last if you do that,” he cautioned.

She gave him a smirk that would have made Salazar proud as she palmed him and gently stroked down his length feeling him twitch with need.

“Fuck, Hermione,”he responded before he grasped her wrists and pinned them over her head.

Hermione luxuriated in his long lithe lines pressed against her. With her wrist pinned in one hand Draco used the other to position himself between her folds. There was little need of foreplay she was so aroused and wet for him. He rubbed his head through her folds as she writhed beneath him.

“Stop teasing,” she hissed.

Draco stilled to take a fortifying breath before he pushed in. Her taut warmth was exquisite. Draco was sure he wouldn’t last for her but he had under estimated how aroused his wife was by him. Hermione had been ready to orgasm the moment she had grazed his naked skin.

“I need you to move now,” she told him. Draco was sweating with the strain of holding back, he was more than ready to obey. He pulled out plunging as deep as he could go, building a slow rhythm. Winding the coil of pleasure tighter and tighter. Hermione was lost to the feel of him but she wouldn’t close her eyes. She wanted him to know that this was real, that it was her beneath him. She wanted to watch the fire that blazed in his gaze as he brought her to bliss. An inferno raged in her core.

“Oh gods...good Godric...Draco...” she raved as she shattered, trembling and fluttering around him but she did not look away there was an intensity to his look as he came in her wake. Hermione knew then that his look of absolute adoration would be the last thing she thought of as she drew her last breath on earth. Nothing could ever describe the euphoria she felt at knowing she had so beguiled him and she silently promised, no matter what the dawn might bring, she would never leave him. Even if she had a time turner and could go back and live her life again she would change nothing, not the war, not the suffering, none of it if it ultimately brought her here.

-o0o-


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you have made it this far. Left kudos, made comments or just enjoyed reading. Please feel free to continue to comment as long as you want to. Always happy to have feedback. Now for my next story, which I have already begun:)

Many, many years later...

Draco Malfoy was a contented old man. He sat at his breakfast table, just as he had done every day for the past 70 years, and picked up 'The Daily Prophet'. He sipped his tea, as was his habit, and reached across the table to take his wife’s hand.He did not know how long they had left together but he was for ever thankful that he had her love and he still, even after all the years that had passed, could not believe that he had been brave enough claim her.

He looked at the headlines and he smiled, it had been many years since his name had been in the headlines. The scandal of his marriage to Hermione long since faded from public memory but it still amused him to recall the astonishment with which he, Hermione and his mother had pursued the news articles the morning after they were wed.

They had expected to be vilified instead they found themselves the poster children for the post-war era. Their love from ‘across the barricades’ proved to be the romance of the decade. The wizarding public lapped up the tale.

Draco’s mother ever the consummate politician had realised that in this romantic narrative was a chance, not only for redemption, but also an opportunity for the young couple to position themselves in the Wizarding World. To gain the power that Hermione would need to change that world. His mother had persuaded his wife to write Draco’s biography. Hermione had been reluctant at first and Draco still did not know to this day how his mother had changed his witches mind, but some how she had.

Hermione Malfoy’s work ‘My Beloved Enemy’ became a best seller. Witches were said to weep as they read the tragic tale of the pureblood heir, trapped by the circumstances of his birth and redeemed by his love for a muggleborn girl. There were some who thought the tale hyperbole but for most Hermione’s credentials and integrity were enough to trust it was the truth.

Draco had not cared, despite his moments of Gryffindor courage, he was ever the consummate Slytherin. All he cared about was that he had not robbed his wife of her chance to change the world. Though Draco’s past was not forgotten somehow the public forgave him and even when his wife campaigned to be Minister for Magic his past was not enough to tarnish her chances. She had served two terms as Minister with her husband quietly at her side and she had, as Draco always expected she would, set the Wizarding World on fire.

They had had their challenges not least when Ronald Weasley sought to take custardy of Rose Granger. Hermione was held on to her daughter but not before a vicious court case where the Weasley’s had attempted to portray Draco as an unfit influence in the parental home. The subtext had been clear Draco was a Death Eater and would turn his wife’s daughter into a dark witch. In the end it was made clear that Hermione was her parent and Hermione’s reputation was such that it could not be argued that she was an unfit mother. Neither could it be argued that Hermione lacked judgement. Therefore it was argued that by extension Draco was a fit person for Rose to live with. Afterwards Draco had considered adopting Hermione’s daughter. In the end it was for the best that he did not. At the age of fourteen Rose chose to move in with her father’s family. For weeks afterward Hermione was inconsolable until Rose wrote to tell her mother why. ‘I can not live with Scorpius as if he is my brother,’ Rose had confessed. There was of course no blood impediment between the pair. Hermione had understood that Rose had a crush on her husband’s son. Scorpius, for his part, fell in love with the red headed girl, absence it seemed made the heart grow fonder. Draco was sure Scorpius had fallen in love with Rose the first time she smiled at him. Rose and Scorpius married in Venice and the trip had afford Draco and Hermione another honeymoon.

The Weasley’s never forgave Draco for stealing his bride. Eventually Harry thawed and overtime Hermione and Harry had reestablished their friendship.In the end Ginny Potter tolerated Draco for Harry’s sake, it was more than Draco had expected of her.

Now age 103 Draco knew that from the moment he had married Hermione his life had been blessed. He smiled as his eyes alighted on the snow globe he had had made for her in their last year at Hogwarts. He recalled the beautiful girl chasing the dragon kite through the surf. Even then he had been in love with her.

They had enjoyed a happy life. Even now in their twilight years, though the flush of young love had long faded, he would still give everthing to be with her. There was, however, one secret he had always kept he had never told her about that other version of himself who had come back through time and begged him to claim her as his own. He wondered what his life would have been without her. What sort of man he would have become. It was a thought he could not comprehend but he knew at the Thirteenth Hour her letter had saved him. It was just one of the reasons he loved her.

“Draco?” She broke his reverie.

“I was just thinking.” He responded to her question.

“What were you think?”

Draco lifted her hand to his lips;

“That I love you.”

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you were wondering in the title-The Thirteenth Hour relates to the idea of time that shouldn't exist, time that is impossible (obviously on a standard clock face!).


End file.
